


Shield of Valdemar

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, First Kiss, First Time, Get Together, Heralds of Valdemar AU, Intrigue, M/M, background Nick Fury/Maria Hill, cameo by Betty Ross, cameo by Bruce Banner, virgin!clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Being glared at by Nick Fury, the Queen’s Own, was not something most Heralds survived, but Phil was sadly used to it.  Arching an eyebrow, Phil glared right back.  “Nick,” he said flatly.  “Don’t pull me off this.  I’m doing good work at the Border.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I know you are,” Nick agreed.  For a second, his expression softened.  “I just need you back here.  Something’s coming.  I can see it on the horizon, and I need someone to help me figure out what it is before it gets here.”</em>
</p>
<p>Phil is a Herald of Valdemar.  It is his job to keep his home and the people in it safe and protected, and it is a job he does well.  When he returns home from his latest mission, however, Phil finds things have changed.  There is political intrigue everywhere and trouble with the neighbouring kingdom of Karse, and Nick Fury, the Queen's Own, needs Phil's help in uncovering it all.  Add in the new Herald Clint Barton, and things are bound to get complicated.  Particularly since Phil is supposed to be mentoring Clint, not slowly falling in love with him...</p>
<p>(You do not need to be familiar with Heralds of Valdemar to read this fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uofmdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/gifts).



> Okay, first of all, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to ereshai and fiendfyre who betaed this for me. You both really helped clean this up and make it work, so thank you <3  
> (That being said, any remaining mistakes are my own).
> 
> So this is a Heralds of Valdemar AU. You don't need to know the Heralds universe to enjoy it, because I've hopefully explained everything you need to know either below or in the fic :)
> 
> Glossary:  
>  _:words here:_ \-- Mindspeech, a type of telepathic communication people with Gifts are capable of, to varying degrees of strength.
> 
> Companion -- highly intelligent magical creatures who look like (but are not) horses, easily recognized by their pure white coats.
> 
> Herald -- a person who is Chosen by a Companion. Heralds may serve as the Monarch’s messengers and information-gatherers, form strong mind-to-mind bonds with their Companions and have at least one Gift. Heralds are also believed to be incorruptible, self-sacrificing, and fair, the Heralds dispense the Monarch's justice and enforce the law. Every monarch of Valdemar must also be a Herald, as must their Heir, ensuring that a tyrant will never rule Valdemar.
> 
> Gifts -- a supernatural or superhuman ability, ranging from the ability to wield magic to the ability to manipulate emotions through music.
> 
> Lifebonds -- A bond between two people, similar to that between a Companion and a Herald. Lifebonds are usually between two people that love each other, and are extremely rare.
> 
> And finally, but not at all least:  
> To Dragon, because it was your prompts that started this whole thing ;) Also thank you to everyone who helped with the plotting of this and answered my questions. You are all wonderful <3
> 
> (See notes at end for a further warning.)

Shivering, Phillip Coulson pulled his coat tighter around him.  Winter had been long and harsh, and even now that it was early spring, snow still clung thickly to the roads.  The long journey had let icy cold sink down deep into Phil’s bones.  Aches splintered out from his joints, reminding him that he wasn’t as young as he used to be.  Over the years, Phil had grudgingly gotten used to living rough, mainly through necessity.  Even so, Phil longed for the warmer weather of spring, when the nuisance of the snow drifts would finally melt away.

_:We are almost at Haven, Chosen.  You will be able to warm yourself in a bath before you know it:_

As always, his Companion’s soothing voice in his mind brought a soft smile to Phil’s face.  Until his dying day, Phil would never forget his first glimpse of Peggy.  Taller than any of the army pack horses, Phil had never seen anything like her.  Even with the tales of Companions his father used to tell him as a boy, Phil hadn’t believed his eyes.  Peggy’s coat had gleamed a blinding white, as startling as her bitless bridle and silver hooves.  No matter how much she’d looked like a large, white horse, the intelligent gleam in her blue eyes had proved she _wasn’t_.  She’d watched Phil as he’d stumbled forward, confused why a Companion had been so far into the Borderlands.  Back then, Phil had been little more than a jaded and battle-worn soldier, dispirited by all the war and pain he’d seen.  Yet Peggy had been Searching for him, for the Herald who would be her lifelong partner.  When Phil had finally glanced into Peggy’s eyes, he staggered, as if suddenly falling, and something warm and sure blossomed deep in his chest.

Even now, Phil was still awed that Peggy had Chosen him.  She’d taken him from that battlefield and shown him a new world.  A place where Phil could make sure wars like the one he’d fought in would never happen again.  As a Herald, Phil helped protected the people and borders of Valdemar from those that wished to do them harm.  It was a life and purpose not dissimilar from that of a soldier.  Only now, instead of just fighting, Phil was striving every day to prevent war from even beginning.  Winters away from a cozy bed and a fireplace seemed a small price to pay for that.

_:It’s only just sunset:_ Phil replied.   _:You know as well as I do that Fury will want a report as soon as I arrive, no matter how badly I smell:_

Peggy whickered softly, her breath foggy in the cold air.  Leaning forward, Phil ran his fingers through her silver mane.  Phil’s grumpy moods always amused Peggy, but Phil could still hear the undercurrent of exhaustion that matched his own.  They’d been on the road a _long_ time.  Now that they were near home, the weariness Phil had been holding back was starting to weigh him down like a stone.  Most of the time, being the Good Eye of Lord Fury, the Queen’s Own, was more pain than pleasure.

A few minutes later, Peggy topped a rise, Haven suddenly spread out below them.  The city was bathed in the orange-hued light of sunset, as sprawling and busy as ever.  Letting out a breath, Phil was struck by the sudden and familiar sense of _home_.  Some of the ever-present tension finally bled from his shoulders.  As much as Haven meant warm baths and meals not cooked over a campfire, it also meant the safety of friends.   _:Come on:_ Phil said, stroking Peggy’s neck again.   _:Let’s go home:_

They followed the road down to the capital of Valdemar and slipped in through the gate.  The street had been swept clean of snow, and Peggy’s hooves rang musically on the cobbled stones.  Despite the hour, there was still a busy crowd outside.  Competing shouts from market vendors punctuated the noise, and the scents of cooking food, smoke and sweat drifted on the air.  Breathing out, Phil let the sights, smells and sounds wash over him.  Peggy threaded between carriages and slipped gracefully around people as they headed deeper into the circular streets of the city.  No one paid them any mind, too used to seeing Heralds and Companions to pay that much attention.  Peggy moved steadily passed inns and taverns, before finally, the noise started to quiet.  The smaller houses soon gave way to sprawling mansions, and then the tall Palace wall was looming in front of them.

Sitting within the heart of the city, the Palace was as grand as the home of royalty should be.  Surrounding it were the three Collegia: the Bardic Collegium, the Healer’s Collegium and the Herald’s Collegium.  Intended to train those with gifts in healing, song, or as Heralds, the Collegia were as impressive as the Palace itself.  As was the riot of colourful clothing worn within.  Phil’s first glimpse was still etched into his memory.  He'd been shocked at the bright scarlet of the Bards and the deep green of the Healers scattered between the gleaming white of the Heralds.

Peggy flicked her ears and snorted as she came to a stop in the flickering circle of torchlight near a small gate.  A sleepy guardsman stood nearby, and blinked blearily up at Phil.  “Uh, what business do you have at the Palace?” the guardsman asked.

Phil frowned, but he wasn’t wearing his Heraldic Whites to mark him as more than just a tired traveller.  Even so, the sight of a Companion should not be strange to a palace guardsman.  “My business mainly consists of a warm meal and a soft place to sleep,” Phil said, his voice raspy with disuse.  Clearing his throat, Phil wondered when he had last spoken aloud to someone.  Or to someone who wasn’t Peggy.  “My Companion and I are returning home.”

The guardsman blinked a few more times, before his eyes went wide.  “Herald Coulson,” he said.  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t recognize you.”

Considering how exhausted Phil was, he could sympathize.  He nodded to the guardsman as the gate opened, and Peggy walked through without prompting.  After the bustle of the city, the calm beyond the wall was a welcome relief.  After so long away, the crowds of Haven had Phil’s nerves jumping.  Phil was too used to the relative quiet of the Border roads, with Peggy as his only constant company.  He’d only passed through towns or villages when he needed supplies or information.  For the most part.  Sometimes the mission called for more, but Phil preferred to stay away from the larger cities.

Instinctively, Peggy headed for the stables and the Companion’s Field, seeking her own rest.  The stable was as large as the other buildings inside the wall, but Phil had long since gotten used to the grandness.  As he and Peggy made their way passed the Collegia, Phil picked out the changes.  No doubt, there would be new faces too.  Phil absently wondered if that meant the exaggerated stories whispered about him had finally been forgotten.

_:I doubt it:_ Peggy said, amused.

Phil sighed.   _:You know, I wouldn’t put it past Nick to be the one keeping those infernal stories alive:_

Peggy whickered softly.   _:I can always ask Rolan:_

At the mention of Nick Fury’s Companion, Phil frowned.  : _Don’t give either of them the satisfaction:_ he replied.

Instinctively, Phil reached out towards Nick Fury’s calm presence.  As much as Phil disliked using his Gift of ThoughtSensing, he couldn’t help it.  Nick had been his friend and his brother for so long, it was habit for Phil to reach out and make sure Nick was safe.  Phil only brushed his thoughts against Nick, but it was enough to sense Nick’s exhaustion and relief that Phil was back.

_:Welcome home, Phil:_ Nick’s voice echoed warmly through his mind.

Phil smiled.

Sliding a little less than gracefully out of the saddle, Phil began the task of taking care of Peggy.  His whole body ached, but hard work had never been something Phil avoided and he made sure to store all his gear away for a proper cleaning in the morning.  Following Peggy towards the Companion’s Field, Phil smiled at the spring to Peggy’s step.  He had to shake his head in amusement as all the other Companions in the field looked up delightedly at her appearance.   _:So eager to leave me already, are you?:_ he teased.

_:Perhaps I want a conversation with someone who’s not so grumpy?:_ Peggy replied.

Phil rolled his eyes.   _:You mean, you want to catch up on all the gossip you missed:_

_:Be nice or I won’t share:_ Peggy told him primly.

Shaking his head again, Phil was about to reply when he looked up and caught sight of the Heraldic Trainee on the other side of the field.   Most Trainees were twelve or thirteen when they were Chosen, but sometimes Heralds could be older.  Phil had been twenty-five and a veteran soldier when he’d first met Peggy.

This young man definitely wasn’t a boy either.  One of his well-muscled arms rested along his Companion’s back, and his sharp gazed was fixed on Phil.  His face didn’t have the more classically handsome features so favoured at Court, but Phil found them infinitely more attractive.  The grey clothing hugged the rest of the Trainee’s strong frame, and his dark blond hair was distinctly messy.  Phil winced inwardly, reminded again of how long he’d been away.  Phil had definitely never seen the young man before, because Phil would not have forgotten.

The longer those blue eyes studied him, the more aware Phil became of his own ragged state.  He knew what the young man saw -- what the Heraldic Trainees always saw.  Phil was tired and worn around the edges, unassuming enough that no one really looked twice.  Which was perfect for most of the missions Nick sent him on, but didn’t do much for Phil’s ego.  Even when he wasn’t wearing clothes dusty from travel, there was no hiding his age or the way he was losing his hair.

Peggy nudged his shoulder.   _Hard._

Stumbling forward, Phil turned to look at her in surprise, only to find Peggy glaring back at him.   _:Do we have to have another talk about things, Phillip?:_ she asked pointedly.

Phil winced.  Peggy was especially mad at him when she called him by his full name.  Phil was confident in his abilities as a Herald, but he’d always been insecure about his appearance.  Until Peggy, people had rarely given him a second look.  The young man’s lips were quirked into a lopsided smile when Phil glanced back at him.  Noticing he had Phil’s attention again, the Trainee raised his hand and waved sheepishly.  Phil didn’t need Peggy’s second nudge to wave back, but it did make the Trainee grin harder.  With a huff, Peggy took pity on him.   _:His name is Clint:_ she said.   _:He’s Kate’s new Chosen:_

_:He looks like trouble:_ Phil told her.

_:You should go and say hello:_ Peggy said, amused.   _:You could use a little trouble:_

Phil turned back to her with a raised eyebrow.   _:Why would I need extra trouble when I have you?:_

Peggy’s response was to duck her head and give him a firm shove in Clint’s direction.  Phil laughed.

“Herald Coulson, sir?”

The sound of his name turned Phil’s attention to the young Trainee hurrying towards him.  The girl couldn’t have been more than fourteen.  “Lord Fury wishes to see you in the old Council chambers,” she said a little breathlessly.

Phil nodded.  Duty called.  “Tell him I will be right there,” he replied.  Nick’s own Gift of ForeSight didn’t let him reach out to Phil the way Phil could, and Nick also knew Phil aversion to intruding on the thoughts of others.  Phil couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever he used his Gift, even though Nick had long since given his permission.

The Trainee nodded back, before racing away.  Phil sighed, not daring to glance at Clint, even though he could feel the young man’s eyes on him once more.  Peggy bumped her nose against Phil’s arm.  His shoulders dropping, Phil huffed and looked up. _:Kate says Clint is asking if you want him to fetch you something from the kitchens:_ Peggy told him.

Blinking, Phil glanced over.  He opened his mouth a few times to reply, but no words came out.  It had been a long time since someone who wasn’t Peggy had offered to make his life a little easier.  Ducking his head slightly, Clint shrugged his shoulders.  Then he looked up again with a bashful smile.  Finally, Phil managed to wrangle his thoughts together enough to nod.  Clint’s smile brightened, before he nodded back, and headed off in the direction of the kitchens.  Phil watched him leave, carefully keeping his gaze from straying lower than Clint’s waist.  Then, with a final soothing stroke down Peggy’s neck, Phil turned and headed for the Palace and Nick.

~*~

Being glared at by Nick Fury, the Queen’s Own, was not something most Heralds survived, but Phil was sadly used to it.  Arching an eyebrow, Phil glared right back.  “Nick,” he said flatly.  “Don’t pull me off this.  I’m doing good work at the Border.”

“I know you are,” Nick agreed.  For a second, his expression softened.  “I just need you back here.  Something’s coming.  I can see it on the horizon, and I need someone to help me figure out what it is before it gets here.”

Phil, more than used to Nick’s dire yet vague pronouncements, sighed and gave in.  “Is it going to get here before I have a chance to have a hot meal?” he asked.

Nick rolled his eye.  “I see time away hasn’t made you any less grumpy,” he muttered.

Phil rolled his eyes.  Over the last two years, he’d barely spent more than a month in Haven.  Instead, he’d spent his time coordinating missions for the other Heralds Nick sent his way.   Or conducted his own incursions across the Border for intelligence.  As a result, Phil was exhausted -- and not just physically.  Everything he’d seen was beginning to weigh him down like a stone sitting on his shoulders.  Even so, there was still a part of Phil that was itching to head back out, because there was still so much to do.

“Phil, I’m sorry,” Nick said quietly.  “If there was anyone else I thought could figure this out, I’d ask them.”

Refusing to sigh, Phil smiled wryly.  “I know,” he replied.

Before Nick could say anything else, the door to the chamber opened sharply, and one of the palace guard swept in.  She scanned the room, and then nodded to her fellow guard who had remained in the doorway.  The rhythm of the guards was familiar, and Phil was rising to his feet beside Nick even before Queen Maria strode in.  She wore the simple Heraldic Whites she favoured when not at Court, her hair pulled back into a bun.  Exasperatedly, Maria huffed as Phil and Nick bowed.  “Will you both stop that?” she said with a pointed look in their direction.  Walking over to Phil, she pulled him into a tight hug.  “Hello my old friend,” she greeted.

For just a moment, Phil sank into the hug. _:Hello, Maria:_ he said.  Like with Nick, Phil used his Gift to brush Maria’s thoughts.  She, too, was tired but happy to see him.

_:Of course, I am.  Never doubt that:_ Maria said.

_:I don’t:_ Phil replied.

_:Good:_  Maria leaned back.  “Now sit down before you fall over,” she added aloud.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Phil replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Don’t sass me,” Maria said.  The glare she shot Phil reminded him of the feisty young princess he’d befriended at the Collegium.  “And you,” Maria continued, arching an eyebrow at Nick.  “You couldn’t have let Phil take a bath and eat a hot meal before reporting in?”

“He’s a Herald,” Nick replied.  “He’s not going to keel over.”

Maria narrowed her eyes.  Just as she and Nick were about to start their familiar bickering, the chamber door opened again, interrupting them.  Lord Jasper Sitwell strode through, bowing to Maria and nodding towards Nick in greeting.  Lady Melinda May followed, subtly shepherding Jasper over to a chair without looking like she was doing much at all.  Both Melinda and Jasper sat on the Council of Valdemar.  They helped to advise the Queen, even though neither were Heralds, and Phil considered both of them to be good friends.  When Jasper’s eyes eventually flicked to Phil, he grinned.  “Coulson,” he said.  “Finally back from your secret mission, I see.”

“I am,” Phil replied mildly.

Before anything else could be said, Phil’s stomach gave an embarrassingly loud rumble.  Glancing away, Phil refused to blush.  Thankfully, a quiet knock on the chambers’ door prevented anyone from making a comment.  Despite that, Peggy’s amusement was clear in the back of Phil’s mind.  Her bond with Phil allowed her to be perfectly aware of what was going on in the room, even though she wasn’t there.

Arching an eyebrow, Jasper stepped forward to see whoever it was.  “Lord Fury,” he said with the beginnings of a smirk, as he turned.  “You haven’t misplaced one of your Heraldic Trainees, have you?”

“I wasn’t aware of losing one,” Nick answered dryly.

“Well, there appears to be one wandering the corridors.  Perhaps you’d like him back,” Jasper said, waving towards the now open door.

Sheepishly, the Heraldic Trainee from the Field ducked his head around the door.   _Clint._  His eyes widened when he saw the Queen, but Melinda fluidly blocked his escape route.  “Uh, excuse me, Your Majesty,” Clint stammered, bowing jerkily.  Clint’s voice was surprisingly husky, like maybe he didn’t talk to people much, either.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.  I was just bringing Herald Coulson some supper from the kitchens.”

“Oh, were you now?” Nick said with a smirk.

“Don’t start, Nick,” Phil warned, his eyes narrowed at his old friend.  Rising to his feet, Phil walked over to where Clint was hesitating by the now closed door.  Clint held a small tray in his hands, which carried a large hunk of buttered bread, a bowl of thick stew and a cup of warm tea.  Phil’s stomach growled loudly at the smells.  “Thank you, Clint,” Phil said.  He willed himself not to flush as he took the tray from Clint, careful to keep his barriers around his Gift as their hands brushed.

_:Smiling at him wouldn’t hurt:_ Peggy’s voice echoed.

Phil ignored her.

“I see you two have already met,” Nick said, distinctly amused.

Turning back to Nick, Phil narrowed his eyes again.  “I thought I told you not to start?” he said archly.

Nick blinked at him.  “Which one of us is it that reports directly to the Queen again?” he snarked in reply.

Phil slid his gaze pointedly towards Maria and back.  Then he arched his eyebrow.  Maria laughed.  “Oh, I have really missed you, Phil,” she said.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Phil replied, retaking his seat.  “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Jasper grinned.  “I almost forgot how much of an asshole you are, Coulson,” he said approvingly.

Phil hummed, but mostly ignored him in favour of dipping half his bread into the stew and shoving it in his mouth.  It was simple food, but to Phil it was the best thing he’d tasted in months.  He closed his eyes in bliss.

Nick huffed.  “Barton, why don’t you take a seat?”

“Me, sir?” Clint asked.

“Yes,” Nick replied.  “You.”  Phil couldn’t see it, but he could just tell Nick was rolling his eye.  “Now, Phil can we interrupt your communion with your food for a moment?”

Phil opened his eyes, and swallowed.  “Are you actually going to listen if I say no?”

Nick grinned wolfishly.  Phil huffed and ate more stew.  While Phil had been eating, Clint had taken the chair next to his.  Perched on the edge of his seat, Clint looked ready to flee the second someone said he wasn’t welcome anymore.  “For those of you who don’t know him, this is Herald Barton,” Nick introduced, waving his hand in Clint’s direction.  “He’s just graduated to his Whites.”

From Clint’s flummoxed expression, this was news to him.  “Uh, sir?” he said.

“He’s also just been assigned to Herald Coulson for his internship.  I thought it prudent he hear what he’s getting himself into,” Nick continued.

Phil sighed.  Nick was up to something.  “You know, I definitely didn’t miss your sense of the unnecessarily dramatic,” he told Nick.

“Barton is one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen,” Nick countered, smirking infuriatingly.  “Natasha likes him, and you know the Weaponsmaster rarely likes _anyone_.”

As the Weaponsmaster, Natasha Romanoff was not just a Herald.  She trained the other Heralds in weaponry, her fearsome skill making her legend among the Trainees.  As well as most of the Heralds she’d ever trained with too.  Experience had proved  to Phil how difficult Natasha was to beat in the training ring.  Yet the skills she’d taught Phil were one of the reasons he was still breathing.

_:He is a good choice for a partner:_ Peggy added.   _:He will be able to keep up with you, Chosen, which is no small feat:_

“He’s got the Gift of Farsight, Phil,” Nick said.  Combined with Phil’s own Gift of Thoughtsensing, he and Clint would be just as dangerous as Fury needed them to be.  Phil huffed because that wasn’t fair.  Nick was playing dirty.

_:Kate thinks you’ll be a good influence on him:_ Peggy said _.  :And I think he’ll be a good influence on you.  I told you that you could use a little trouble in your life:_

Phil sighed, because apparently Nick and Peggy were ganging up on him now.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” Clint spoke up.

“Not really, no,” Nick replied.  “It’s one of the benefits of being the Queen’s Own.”

“Can I remind you that the position doesn’t actually make you royalty?” Maria said dryly.

Thankfully, Maria and Nick were once again interrupted.  This time, it was by the arrival of the final member of their planning circle.  To Phil’s relief, Nick had only called his friends to their meeting, rather than the full Valdemar Council.  While the Councillors were all good men and women, Lord Pierce in particular did so like to make speeches.

“Forgive me for being late,” Natasha Romanoff said softly, bowing to the Queen and then nodding to Nick.  “Your Majesty, Lord Fury.”  Her eyes slid to Clint.  “Trainee Barton.”

“Actually, it’s Herald Barton now,” Clint said, sounding both proud and apprehensive.  “Apparently, if you bring people supper you get promoted.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, before she turned to Phil.  “Nick’s planning something,” Phil said in answer to her questioning look.  “Although, as usual, he refuses to tell anyone what that is.”

Natasha smiled slightly, but there was real concern in her eyes.  “Does this mean you’re heading out to the Border again?” she asked.

“No,” Phil replied.  “It seems I’m needed in Haven for a while.”

Natasha’s smile grew.  “I’m glad,” she said.

Phil smiled back.  “I missed you too, Natasha.”

“It’s not that the situation in Karse isn’t still important,” Nick broke in.  “I just have my doubts that Karse is the _only_ threat we need to worry about.”

At the name of her former homeland, Natasha tensed.  To Phil’s surprise, it was Clint that reached out to briefly squeeze her hand.  As one of very few whom Natasha had told about her past, Phil was aware of how Natasha disliked to be touched without permission.  Phil had always respected that.  Yet, the ease with which Natasha accepted Clint’s hand spoke of a deep friendship between the two.

“Be that as it may,” Maria said, “I still want to know what the latest situation in Karse _is_.”

Karse was a small, but surprisingly powerful country to the southeast of Valdemar.  Technically, the country was a monarchy, but the King was little more than a figurehead.  The real power in Karse resided with the theocracy.  The Sunpriests and their leader, the Son of the Sun, worshiped their supreme god, V’Kandis Sunlord.  Unfortunately, the Sunpriests dispensed their faith with harsh laws.  Women were mostly relegated to the home, magic was feared and homosexuality was forbidden.  Phil had some of the horrors of Karse firsthand, like the children with the potential for magic burnt at the stake.  The fact that Natasha had survived all that and more made her one of the strongest people Phil had ever met.

Letting out a slow breath, Phil met Maria’s gaze.  “It’s worse than we thought,” he began.  “Malekith and his Dark Elves have risen to great power within the Sunpriests.  So much so, that when the Son of the Sun died a month ago in sudden circumstances, Malekith became Son of the Sun in his place.”

Nick cursed, while Maria, Jasper and Melinda all looked grave.  “And I suppose Malekith had a hand in the previous Sunlord’s death?” he said.

“Nothing proven, but everyone suspects,” Phil agreed.

“Does Malekith seek to use his new power to attack the Asgardian Empire again?” Melinda asked.

“His quest for vengeance has not changed,” Phil replied, “but I have not heard of any direct plans.”

Malekith and his Dark Elves had sworn a vendetta against Asgard a very long time ago.  The exact details of how it began were lost, but there was no confusion about what had angered Malekith the most.  He and his Elves had been cast out of the Empire by Crown Prince Thor, torn away from their power and luxury.  Despite Malekith’s thirst for revenge, his exile might have been the end of it.  For all the formidable skill of the Dark Elves, they were no match for the power of the whole Asgardian Empire.  Then Prince Loki, the adopted brother of the Asgardian Crown Prince, had tried to usurp power from the All Father.  His actions had plunged almost the whole continent into a war that had lasted for nearly ten years.  The same war Phil had once seen as a soldier.  The fight had been devastating, weakening both the Asgardian Empire and its allies.  That distraction had allowed Malekith to seize the power of the Sunpriests for himself.  Phil couldn’t stop the sense of foreboding looming over him, as if the whole continent was on the brink of war once again.  The thought terrified Phil more than he was willing to admit.  His scars from the first war still cut too deeply for Phil to face another.

“So what does that mean?” Jasper said, blowing out a breath.

“If Malekith is the new leader of the Sunpriests, he’ll be in command of the Red Room,” Natasha said quietly.

Clint reached out again to comfort her.  Phil watched the movement with a growing sense of curiosity.  He wondered if Natasha had shared with Clint what had happened to her before she’d managed to escape the Red Room herself.  Natasha hadn’t said much to Phil, but the details Natasha _had_ shared were enough to terrify him.  Stories of Sunpriests recruiting the few magical children to survive being burnt at the stake.  Of teaching them to summon demons.  Stories of those same Sunpriests using demons to train children into being their assassins.

“Are you saying Malekith is now in control of the Winter Soldier?” Maria asked grimly, breaking into Phil’s introspection.

Natasha nodded.

Jasper cursed, his eyes wide.  “Please tell me Malekith isn’t going to use the Winter Soldier to try and assassinate Asgardian royalty,” he said.

“I don’t think he is,” Nick replied, his fingers steepled and his gaze slightly distant.  Nick’s ability to untangle the true motives of his enemies had always amazed Phil, and Phil was never sure how much was Nick’s Gift of ForeSight and how much was just Nick.  Somehow, Nick could stay several steps ahead, his mind able to decipher potential strategies and decide which ones their enemies would take.  “The Winter Soldier tried to kill Crown Prince Thor during the war and failed,” Nick continued.  “Malekith would have to know he’d be even less successful a second time.”

“So what you’re telling us,” Melinda said dryly, “is that we have no idea what Malekith and his Dark Elves are planning?”

“No, but we do know what Malekith _isn’t_ planning,” Nick said, his gaze locking with Phil’s.  “Malekith has had a long time to plot, so we need to find out what he’s going to do, and find out _fast_.”

Phil let out a slow breath, and nodded.  He very carefully didn’t look in Clint’s direction.  “Yes, sir,” he said.  “That’s not all, either.”

“Oh?” Nick asked, but he clearly wasn’t expecting Phil’s words to be good news.

“There are rumours of an envoy from outside Karse who is attempting to meet with Malekith and his Sunpriests,” Phil said.  “No one seems to know why, but the most likely explanation is to ally their power.  Possibly also because this new group wishes to see Asgard suffer.”

“New group?” Jasper asked, his eyes narrowing.  “What new group?”

“They call themselves Hydra,” Phil replied.  “They’re not unlike the Dark Elves.  Hydra is deliberately cruel, and will ruthlessly persecute those who do not fit their ideals.  There’s little else I was able to find out.  The members are overly secretive, and I don’t know if even Malekith knows who all the individuals are.”

Maria rubbed a hand over her face.  “As if we didn’t have enough to deal with,” she muttered.

“And what of Victoria Hand?” Melinda said.

“She has gathered a lot of support from those she can,” Phil answered.  “There are those among the Karsite army that follow her, as well as a few of the Sunpriests who are not Dark Elves or corrupted by power.  I just fear that with Malekith still in power, it will never be enough.”

Phil himself had helped Hand in her efforts to rescue her homeland.  As a young girl, Hand had been forcibly recruited into the Sunpriests.  Even so, she was one of the few that remained untouched by corruption.  It was one of the reasons Phil had first approached her, after he’d seen the suffering caused by the Sunpriest’s reign.  Hand had an impressive network of spies, but she lacked the ability to do much against such entrenched corruption.

“Then I think we need to deal with Malekith, and hope that Victoria Hand is as capable as Phil says she is,” Maria declared.

“I think you’re all forgetting something important,” Clint interrupted with a rough voice.  Phil hadn’t forgotten that Clint was there, but he had to admit to not paying the other man much attention.  Glancing at Clint, Phil caught his thoughtful frown.

“And what is that?” Nick asked him dryly.

“Crown Prince Thor’s upcoming wedding,” Clint replied.

Phil blinked.

_:He raises a good point:_ Peggy agreed.

“ _What_ about Prince Thor’s wedding?” Maria said, her eyes narrowed.

“Um…” Clint said, his eyes growing wide, as if he’d just realized who he’d interrupted.  To Phil’s surprise, it was him that Clint glanced at for reassurance.  Phil did his best to smile back.  “Well, uh.  The Imperial Wedding would have almost all the Asgardian nobility in attendance,” Clint continued.  “Including everyone Malekith has sworn vengeance against.  That would make it an almost irresistible target to him.”

“It really would,” Jasper agreed with a sigh.

“Except Karse hasn’t been invited,” Nick countered.

Clint arched an eyebrow at Nick.  His expression was startlingly like Natasha’s when she thought someone was missing the point.  “Are you telling me Malekith needs an _invitation_ to unleash his revenge on Asgard?”

Maria broke the rising tension with a soft chuckle.  “I can see why you like him, Natasha,” she said.

“That’s not the only reason,” Natasha replied, her lips quirking.

Nick huffed out a sigh.  “I’ll send a message to Asgard first thing in the morning,” he said.

“Good,” Phil said, giving in to the yawn that had been building for the last ten minutes.  “That sounds like a plan.”

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Phil was able to free himself of the debriefing and Nick’s plotting, the hour was late.  Barely able to keep his eyes open, he gave up on the idea of a hot bath.  Instead, Phil washed the worst of the dust off in a bowl of tepid water before gratefully falling into bed.  Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

When Phil slowly drifted awake again, he smiled at the soft warmth beneath him.  Then he snapped his eyes open.  The bed was comfortable, and the sheets were finely spun.  This was no roadside inn or Karsite tavern.  In his chest, Phil’s heart began racing.  He tried to work out where he was, automatically reaching for the knife he kept under his pillow.

_:Easy, Chosen:_ Peggy soothed.   _:You’re safe.  You’re in Haven:_

Letting out a shaky breath, Phil ran a hand over his face as the memories returned.  Haven.  He’d arrived back at the Palace last night.

_:Yes, we did:_ Peggy said, her concern giving way to amusement.

_:Good morning:_ Phil told her, yawning.

Peggy’s amusement grew, the weight of it familiar and fond.   _:It’s barely morning:_ she replied.   _:You slept through the morning’s bells.  I thought I might have to come in there and wake you myself:_

From the way the sunlight was slanting in through the window, Phil could tell the truth of Peggy’s words.  He felt more alert after the sleep, which was good.  With luck, Phil would even be able to find some leftover breakfast somewhere.  Pushing back the sheets, Phil levered himself out of bed.  His travel bags were still where he’d left them, but Phil ignored them.  Instead, he headed towards the small cupboard in the corner of the room.  Opening the door, Phil hesitated at the sight of the white fabric inside.  The shirts, tunics, trews and boots were all white, distinctly marking Phil as a Herald.  It was strange to be reaching for them instead of the rougher clothing of a merchant that Phil had worn as cover for so long.  Pushing his uncertainty from his mind, Phil dressed quickly.  If he hurried, he could hunt down a cup of coffee before Nick inevitably dragged him into another meeting.

Slipping out of his room, Phil headed down to the common room.  As always, the two fireplaces held roaring fires that warmed the room, but most of the many tables and benches were empty.  A few Heralds lingered behind, but Phil could see no trace of Trainee grey -- which was not unusual.  Any Herald-Trainee that didn’t wish to get in trouble with the Dean of the Collegium was in their lessons.  Nodding his greetings to the few faces he recognized, Phil headed to the side tables to see if there was any coffee left.

“Herald Coulson?”

Phil blinked at the sound of his name uttered by a familiar husky voice, and turned to see Clint standing beside him.  His eyes widened a little as he took in the Whites Clint was clad in, rather than the Greys of last night.  Phil smiled. Clint looked _good_ in his Whites.  Something about them brought out the blue of Clint’s eyes, and enticed Phil’s gaze to linger on the breadth of Clint’s shoulders.  “Clint,” he greeted.  “I’m surprised Nick doesn’t have you doing a million things already.”

Clint shrugged, his eyes glancing away.  “Actually, I don’t have much to do at all,” he said.  “Not since I don’t have lessons with the other Trainees now that I’m a full Herald.”

Phil arched an eyebrow, and hummed.  Nick was clearly up to something, but before coffee, Phil wasn’t sure he could figure it out.  Pouring himself a cup, he nodded to one of the empty tables.  “You’re welcome to join me, if you like,” he offered.

_:I know of a way you can occupy Clint for the rest of the day too:_ Peggy suggested.

Phil ignored her.

“Thanks,” Clint said.  “Um… sir?”

The clunky way the title rolled off Clint’s tongue proved he didn’t use it much.  Phil smiled despite himself.  “Phil is fine,” he said.  In the daylight, it was easier to see the tension in Clint’s shoulders.  There was a wariness in his gaze too, despite the cheeky smile he flashed towards the Heralds that greeted him by name.  Phil could sense a story behind that, making him even more aware of Clint’s attempt at formality.  “Was it Lord Fury who told you to call me sir?” he asked mildly, trying to keep all judgement from his tone.

To Phil’s amazement, Clint’s cheeks flushed faintly.  “Um, not exactly,” he said, glancing down at the table.  This his eyes flicked back up to Phil’s.  “I figured it couldn’t hurt to be polite to someone who’s friends with the Queen,” he said dryly.  “Plus, Nat likes you, and she told me not to be annoying.”

Phil blinked, both at the blunt candor, and Clint’s easy use of a nickname for Natasha.  “Annoying?” he replied, arching an eyebrow.

Grimacing, Clint rolled his eyes.  “Before coming here, I’d never had what you’d call a formal education,” he admitted quietly.  Then he grinned, sharp and bright.  “Most teachers scowl when they hear my name now.”

Phil shook his head, but couldn’t stop the smile that curved his lips.  “Quite the reputation,” he said.

Clint raised both his eyebrows.  “Maybe,” he agreed, “but I’m no Herald Coulson.”

Sighing, Phil barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his own exaggerated legend.  “Most of that had been completely overstated,” he said.

“Even the story about stealing the book on Karsite History from right underneath Herald Blake’s nose?  The one written by the Herald Margaret Carter?” Clint asked, his eyes dancing.

Phil frowned at the mention of the Chronicler Herald.  He and Blake had never agreed on much.  “I didn’t _steal_ it,” he protested.

_:No, but you did borrow it without permission, which is almost the same thing:_ Peggy told him.

Phil sighed.  Still laughing silently at him, Clint shrugged.  “That’s not what Lord Fury says,” he replied.  “Or should I say _Nick_?  Which is weird, by the way.”

“It’s weird that I call Nick by his first name?” Phil said mildly.

Clint made a face.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “What’s the story with that?”

“It’s complicated,” Phil said dryly.  “The short version is that we knew each other before we were both Heralds.  We fought together in the war.”  He paused, smiling faintly.  His and Nick’s friendship seemed simple when distilled down to a few words, but the reality of it was infinitely more complicated.  “Sometimes, Nick needs someone other than the Queen to argue with and tell him when he’s being stupid.  He trusts me to be that person.  It’s why he sends me to the Border, too.  He trusts the way I see things -- and he knows how I think.”

Clint cocked his head to the side.  “I can see it,” he said.  “You as an old soldier.”

With a wry smile, Phil wrapped both of his hands around his cooling coffee mug.  “I haven’t been a soldier for a long time.”  Shaking off his memories, he glanced at Clint.  “I much prefer being a Herald.”

“Yeah.”  Something dark flashed through Clint’s expression.  “Me too.”

Phil regretted bringing up whatever demons Clint had.  He smiled, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood.  “If you’re very bored, I’m sure you could always ask the Housekeeper Sechel for more chores.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Clint replied with an exaggerated grimace.

Phil chuckled.  Then, weighing up his words, he studied Clint for a moment.  “You can sit in meetings with me,” he decided, wondering if this had been Nick’s plan all along.  “A lot of it is boring detail, but we can always use another set of eyes.  If we’re going to be working together, you should probably learn what I’ve been doing for the last three years.”

Clint blinked at him with wide eyes.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.  “I mean, letting me in on all your plans and everything.”

Phil arched an eyebrow.  “You’re a Herald, Clint.  No matter what else, that means you’re honest and trustworthy.  Kate would not have Chosen you otherwise.”

Clint shrugged, glancing away.  “I guess so,” he muttered.  Then he winced, no doubt because Kate had something to say about that.  Phil could sympathize.  

Phil bit his lip when Clint blew out a frustrated sigh, and scowled.  Then Clint slowly dropped his head onto the table, and Phil couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.  He’d never met Kate, but she sounded a lot like Peggy, which could only mean trouble.

_:I like to think of it as having good taste:_ Peggy said primly in his head.

_:Of course you do:_ Phil told her affectionately, and then laughed again at Peggy’s mental huff in reply.

The rest of Phil’s breakfast passed quickly, conversation turning to far less serious matters.  Clint was wryly sarcastic, his wit as sharp as his gaze, and Phil found himself biting back laughter far more than he had in a long time.  Somehow, Clint had even sweet-talked Cook Marie into making Phil some eggs and toast.  Phil wasn’t sure if it was Clint’s bashful smile or Phil’s ‘half-starved state’ that had convinced Marie in the end.  All Phil _was_ sure of was that Clint’s company helped him feel more like a mischievous Trainee than the old, weary Herald he’d become.

_:I told you he’d be good for you:_ Peggy informed him smugly.

_:Yes, thank you:_ Phil shot back.

~*~

Finally, Clint had to excuse himself to help Natasha with an archery lesson.  Phil had squashed down his disappointment, but Peggy had been relentless in her teasing ever since.  Phil comforted himself that Clint had seemed as reluctant to leave as Phil was for him to go.

_:You should go and take him up on his offer:_ Peggy said.

Phil sighed.  Before he’d left, Clint had suggested that Phil wander by the training field and watch him shoot.   _:I’ll go as soon as I finish cleaning the tack:_ Phil said.

Ten minutes later, Phil found himself standing beside the training field.  He was glad he’d given in to Peggy’s prodding, because Clint was… amazing.  Phil had already been impressed that Natasha would ask for Clint’s help.  Now that he could _see_ , Phil decided that impressed was an understatement.  With a bow in his hand, Clint was graceful and deadly competent.  He’d stripped down to a sleeveless shirt for the lesson, his arms bare aside from his shooting glove and arm guard.  Even though it was barely spring, Clint’s skin was golden.  The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed as he drew back his bow, his eyes narrowed intently.  Clint’s lips quirked into a satisfied smile as he released his arrow, and Phil blinked as it hit the target in the _exact_ center.  Around Clint, the Trainees broke into amazed whispers.  A few giggled, although Phil was willing to bet some of that was due to Clint’s half-clothed state.

“He _never_ misses,” Natasha said, suddenly beside Phil.

Phil didn’t jump, but only because he was used to Natasha’s silent appearances.  “Never?” he echoed.

“Never.”  Natasha smirked at him.  “I’ve seen Clint make some incredible shots, including one that I didn’t think was possible.”  Natasha’s smirk widened at Phil’s blink of surprise.  “He was upside-down at the time,” she added.

Turning his attention back to Clint, Phil tried to imagine it.  The scary part was that he could.  Clint hadn’t spoken much about his past, but there was a recklessness to him.  And Phil could see Clint’s skill, the ability to succeed, no matter the danger.  “And Nick wants to partner him with me,” Phil muttered.

“Believe it or not, you’ll be good for him,” Natasha said quietly.  “Clint needs someone… steady in his life.  Someone he can rely on, but who’ll be patient with him.”  She slid Phil a sidelong look.  “Besides, he’s good for you too.  You’re smiling again.”

Phil rolled his eyes.  “You know, I wish people would stop telling me that,” he muttered.

Natasha just laughed.

~*~

Later that afternoon, Phil grabbed another cup of coffee and headed to Nick’s office.  The Queen’s Own looked up at Phil’s knock, smiling a little as he tossed a roll of parchment down onto his paper-covered desk.  At Phil’s raised eyebrows, he shrugged.  “Council politics,” Nick muttered in explanation.

Phil was grateful that was something he didn’t have to deal with much, even if he was a little contrite at leaving Nick alone with it.  “Anything I should be concerned about?” he asked.

Nick sighed.  “I don’t know,” he replied.  “It’s probably the usual egos.  I just can’t help feeling that with our attention fixed on Karse, I’m missing something closer to home.”  Nick smiled wryly.  “I’ve got Jasper and Melinda helping me, but none of us can find anything to be worried about.”

Phil frowned.  “I assume this is what you need my help with?” he said, ignoring the twinge of guilt at not being around to help Nick before this.  There had been a time in Phil and Nick’s life where they’d been almost inseparable.  Now, they spent more time apart than together and Nick was left to deal with the machinations of the kingdom alone.

“Stop it,” Nick said, breaking into Phil’s thoughts.  “Phil, what you and Peggy have been doing is important.  I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with it.  And you’re here now to help.  That’s all that matters.”

_:It is:_ Peggy agreed.

“Besides, you’ll be complaining to me about the state of everything in a week,” Nick added.

At Nick’s sly smile, Phil snorted and rolled his eyes.  “It might be nice for a change,” he said.

Nick chuckled.  “Well, I suppose if you get bored, I could always assign you to help Steve Rogers…” he teased.  “I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a report yet.”

Phil glared.  Captain Rogers had been with Phil and Nick in the army during the war.  From the first time they’d met, Phil had been awed and inspired by the Captain’s tactical mind.  Rogers had retained a sense of justice and determination, no matter the cost.  Phil had aspired to be a soldier like the Captain, to fight for what was right.  When Rogers had disappeared from the battlefield one day, Phil had mourned.  So had many others.  Neither Nick or Phil had forgotten the Captain, and it was that memory that had led to Rogers’ rediscovery, frozen in time.  Nick had never given up hope, and with the help of Tony Stark, brought Rogers to Valdemar.  Phil had to admit to underestimating the Prince, but Stark had proven his worth.  Not only by finding Rogers, but by helping him adjust to a new world.

Rolling his eyes again, Phil fought the blush that heated his cheeks.  Nick liked to tease him about his admiration for Captain Rogers, but it wasn’t a crush like Nick insisted.  Phil didn’t want to bed Rogers -- he hadn’t actually been interested in taking anyone to bed for a long time.  Not until a cheeky young Herald with a propensity for archery had smiled at him across the Companion’s Field.

“Okay, what’s that look for?” Nick asked, his gaze narrowed shrewdly.

“Nothing,” Phil said.

“Fine,” Nick relented.  “But don’t think I don’t know someone has finally cracked that wall you keep around your emotions.  Just promise me one thing -- if it _is_ Rogers, can I be there when Stark finds out?”

Phil sighed.  “Can we get to the part where you explain what you’re worried about, instead of focusing on my personal life?” he asked.

“Okay,” Nick said, the smile dropping from his face.  “Although, I only have my suspicions at the moment.”

Arching an eyebrow, Phil sent him a pointed look.  “When you have suspicions, bad things happen, so just _tell me_ ,” he said.

“Well, for one, Lord Garrett and Lord Pierce are insisting that the Queen marry,” Nick said grimly.

Phil blinked, his thoughts already spinning with the implications.  And the extent of what he’d missed in his absence.  Both Lord Garrett and Lord Pierce sat on the Council of Valdemar.  The Queen and Nick trusted them, but Phil was still confused at the logic behind their plan.  As Queen, Maria already had an heir -- her cousin, Prince Anthony Stark.  There was no political reason for her to marry.  Truthfully, Phil hadn’t been sure she ever would, even if she ever fell in love.  “Who are they suggesting?” he asked, because there was more to this than Nick was saying.

“A young nobleman, Lord Grant Ward,” Nick answered.  “I don’t really know him, but that’s not the part that concerns me.  What I’m worried about is the way Pierce in particular is pushing the issue.  I don’t understand _why_ he thinks its so important the Queen marries Lord Ward.”  His gaze was dark and surprisingly sad when he glanced back up at Phil.  “Pierce didn’t even seem discouraged when the Queen said she didn’t want to marry anyone at all.”

For a moment, Phil debated saying something in sympathy.  Nick’s feelings towards the Queen had been obvious to Phil for a long time.  He just wasn’t sure Nick would appreciate reassurance right then.  “So you think Pierce and Garrett have an ulterior motive for wanting Ward to become King?” he asked instead.

“I do,” Nick agreed.  “What I don’t know is what.  By all reports, Ward is hardworking, good man, if a little cold.  There is nothing that makes him stand out at all.”

Frowning, Phil nodded, because that in itself could be a clue.  “I’ll keep my eyes open, and see what I can find out,” he said.  “Someone somewhere will know something.”

“If anyone can find them,” Nick said.  “It’s you.”

Phil could only hope Nick was right.

~*~

Life fell into a pattern after that.  Phil rose an hour after dawn to share breakfast with Clint.  After that, Maria or Nick would drag him into the inevitable meetings.  The discussions of Karse, or the plans for the upcoming visit to Asgard seemed endless.  Clint often joined him, and the more he did, the more Phil became awed with Clint’s bright, sharp mind.  Clint picked up details others missed, and viewed problems from a different angle.  Phil could easily see why Nick liked him so much.  Yet not even Clint’s sarcastic wit could alleviate the tedium of the longer meetings with the Council.  Particularly when Pierce started making speeches.

One afternoon, Phil finally found himself free of the never-ending round of meetings.  Slipping outside, Phil let the cool air ease the tension in his shoulders.  Despite the snow lingering on the ground, the sun was warm on his face.  For a moment, Phil tilted his head up towards the sky and closed his eyes.  After so long in the Borderlands, it was strange to be outside without having to watch his back or sneak around.  Part of Phil was clamouring that he was wasting daylight, but mostly he was just enjoying the moment.

Opening his eyes again, Phil gazed around the carefully tended gardens.  They bordered the Palace, protected from the harshness of winter by human care.  In the summer, the gardens were full of flowers, the colour and scent greeting anyone who wandered outside.  As a Trainee, Phil had loved summer.  Whenever he could, he'd found a shaded corner and curled up with a book he’d smuggled out of the library.  Beyond the garden lay the Terilee River, still frozen by winter.  Soon enough, the water would be flowing sluggishly over wet rocks and lumps of melting ice.  

_:It is good to finally be home, Chosen:_ Peggy said.

_:It’s good to be back:_ Phil agreed, even though Haven wasn’t quite feeling like home yet.

“Phillip?” Maria’s quiet voice jolted Phil from his somewhat melancholy thoughts.  “May I join you?”

Opening his eyes, Phil turned to face her.  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied with a polite smile.  At Maria’s pointed look, his expression morphed into genuine amusement.

Huffing, Maria turned to stroll through the gardens, and Phil fell easily into step beside her.  “So how are you settling in?” Maria asked after a moment.

Phil let out a sigh.  “Truthfully, I’m not sure yet,” he replied.  “I will find my feet, but… I’m still not used to the meetings.”  His lips twisted wryly.  “Or all the people.”

“You will,” Maria told him.  “And then you’ll be complaining to me all about the stupidity of the new Trainees.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Phil agreed.

Together, they walked over to the river.  Phil let his eyes trace over the white landscape before glancing over at Maria.  She too was watching the gardens, her face pensive.  Maria had the Gift of Empathy, and like Phil, she knew what it was like to keep everything locked behind an invisible wall.  Combined with being Queen, and Phil sometimes wondered how many people actually looked beyond Maria’s calm facade.  “What about you?” he asked gently.  “How are you, Maria?”

Maria was silent for a while, the snow surrounding them making everything seem muffled.  Phil patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts.  “I am getting very tired of the way the Council is pushing for me to marry,” she said with an undercurrent of bitterness.  “Particularly Lord Garrett.”

“It is rather strange that he’s so keen on the idea,” Phil agreed mildly.

“It is,” Maria said.  “And even if I did want to marry, it wouldn’t be to Lord Grant Ward.”

Frowning, Phil tried to remember if he’d ever met Grant Ward, but no face sprang to mind.  “Is Ward particularly old and disgusting?” he teased in an attempt to make Maria smile.

Maria’s lip twitched.  “He’s young and handsome, I suppose, if a little awkward when you talk to him,” she said.  “There’s just… something about him that unsettles me.”

Phil nodded, and glanced at the river again to try and untangle his words.  “Far be it for me to tell a Queen what to do, but do you think your feelings are more than just a reaction to the marriage itself?”

Blinking, Maria turned to him, and intently studied his face.  “You mean the conspiracy that Fury has his suspicions about?”  Maria snorted.  “Nick is one of the people urging me to settle down.”

Phil bit back a smile, and offered Maria his arm as they wandered back towards the Palace.  “Nick’s encouragement has nothing to do with wanting you to get married,” he said.  He’d been urging Nick to say something for years now.  Nick, unfortunately, had stubbornly remained silent on the subject.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Maria asked sharply.

Inwardly, Phil winced.  He shouldn’t have said anything.  While he wanted Nick to confess his feelings, he hadn’t wanted to say anything to Maria before Nick was ready.  “I just meant that Nick is concerned about you, that’s all,” he said, hoping the deflection was enough.  “He only wants you to be happy.”

Maria sighed.  “I wish people would stop being concerned about who I sleep with,” she grumbled.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Nick was so against it because he wishes it was him in my bed.”  Phil didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to.  Maria was very smart.  Her hand tightened almost painfully on Phil’s arm as she stopped dead in her tracks.  “Nick…?  But he… Why didn’t he _say_ anything?” she demanded, her eyes wide.

Phil smiled wryly.  The secret was out now, and he had to at least make Maria understand.  “You’re a Queen, Maria,” he told her softly.  “And he is the Queen’s Own.  He knows you look to him for advice and guidance, and…”  Phil sighed.  “He would rather be your friend and ally than risk losing you.”

Maria blinked a few times, her eyes bright.  “And why is he so sure he’d lose me at all?”

“Because sometimes old soldiers find it hard to see past their scars,” Phil said softly.

Huffing, Maria shot him a perceptive look.  Phil offered her a wry smile, because he’d expected Maria to see through his words.  She understood Phil was talking about himself too.  Although, unlike Nick, Phil wasn’t in love with the Queen.  “Are you sure you’re all right, Phil?” she asked softly.  “There’s nothing stopping you from finding your own chance at companionship, you know.”

Phil frowned.  “Have you been talking to Natasha?”

“No,” Maria said, surprised.  “Should I be?”

Phil sighed.  “I don’t know why everyone in my life is trying to insist they know what’s best for me, but I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted.

“Okay,” Maria agreed mildly.  She grinned when Phil shot her a disgruntled look.  “Come on,” she said, laughing slightly.  “I’m cold.  Let’s go find some coffee and a warm fire.”

Smiling grudgingly, Phil shrugged.  “Why not?” he agreed.

~*~

Phil blew out a sigh, and barely resisted tossing the parchment across the room in frustration.  If that was the kind of report Nick was getting from Lord Pierce’s spies, it was no wonder Nick suspected something was wrong.  The situation Phil had seen was far, far worse than the one on paper.  Pierce should have been astute enough to figure that out, but he hadn’t yet.  Although, corruption among agents in Karse was not uncommon.  That’s why Nick had sent Phil in the first place.

Phil huffed out another sigh.  Maybe he should send a message to his own contacts.

“Is this a bad time?”

Glancing up, Phil found Clint hovering tentatively in the doorway of newly assigned office.  Clint held up one of the mugs in his hands.  “I brought coffee?” he added.

“Thank you,” Phil said gratefully.  “Coffee and your presence might just prevent me from sending a message I regret to several Councillors.”  When Clint shuffled in, Phil waved at the chairs in front of the small fireplace.  Smiling, he encouraged Clint to join him as he took the coffee.  As always, Phil held his mental barriers tightly as Clint’s fingers brushed his hand.  Touch made it easier for Phil’s Gift, and he’d promised himself that he would not intrude on Clint’s thoughts, no matter the temptation.

“I don’t have to stay,” Clint said, still hesitant.  “I…”

“Please stay,” Phil interrupted before he could stop himself.  “I really would like your company.”

Clint flushed slightly and ducked his head, as Peggy’s chuckles echoed in Phil’s mind.   _:The head cook is busy today.  You and Clint could hide out in the gardens behind the kitchens without being seen.  If you sneak out now, you could have most of the afternoon:_ Peggy told him.

_:No, thank you:_ Phil replied dryly, settling himself into the chair by the fire.  Peggy offered at least one suggestion like that every day since he’d met Clint, and Phil was learning to ignore them.  “Is everything all right?” he asked Clint out loud.

Clint perched on the edge of the other chair and fiddled with his own mug of coffee.  He flashed Phil a bright smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “I just thought you might want coffee before your meeting with Lord Fury this afternoon,” he said.

“Thank you,” Phil replied, because coffee was always welcome.  “But you do know you don’t have to bring me things if you want to talk to me?”

This time, the wry humour in Clint’s expression reached his gaze.  “I do,” he agreed.  “I’ve just noticed you tend to skip meals when I don’t bring you things.”

Phil glanced away and cleared his throat.  “Yes, well…”

Peggy laughed.   _:He knows you well, Chosen:_ she teased.

Phil huffed and smiled wryly.  “Perhaps,” he admitted.

Clint smiled back, soft and slightly shy.  “You should do that more often,” he said.

“Do what?” Phil asked curiously.  “Admit when I’m wrong?”

“No.”  Clint shook his head, his smile fading into seriousness.  “Smile.”  He grinned, suddenly mischievous.  “It’s a good look on you.”

_:It is:_ Peggy agreed.   _:And you should:_

“I’ll try,” Phil told them both.

“Good,” Clint said with a firm nod.  Then he leaned forward, his eyes dancing.  “Now, have you heard the latest rumours about Herald Blake…?”

~*~

“Phil.”

Blinking, Phil looked up to find Nick standing in front of him.  He’d been on his way to bed, but clearly his plans were about to change.  As exhausted as he was, Phil couldn’t stop the chill that went through him at Nick’s grave expression.  “What happened?” he asked.

Nick jerked his head down the corridor towards his office.  He didn’t say anything else until he’d shut his office door behind Phil.  “We have a problem,” he said, his tone sharp.

Now that he was looking, Phil saw the tension in Nick’s shoulders and the grim frown lines around his mouth.  “Nick,” he said calmly.  “Tell me what happened.”

Nick blew out a breath.  “The Winter Soldier was spotted on the Border with Karse,” he explained.

Phil cursed.  The Winter Soldier was a gifted and highly skilled assassin.  Whatever his mission, it was dangerous.  No one had any idea of his identity, but the Winter Soldier could slip in and out of places no other assassin could.  That alone was enough to make him terrifying, but the Soldier was also commanded by the Sunpriests.  Corrupt as the Sunpriests were, that was the part Nick and Phil feared most.

“I’ve sent a few agents out to track him, but he seems to have disappeared,” Nick continued grimly.  “For now, anyway.”

“Do we know what the Soldier is doing near Valdemar?” Phil asked.

“No,” Nick replied.  “But I was really hoping you could find out.”

Phil’s stomach clenched.  As much as he was willing to stop whatever the Sunpriests were planning, Phil didn’t want to face down the Winter Soldier.  “What do you need me to do?” he asked, because no matter his own feelings, duty came first.  “And when do you need me to leave?”

“Leave?” Nick barked.  “You’re not going anywhere.  What I want you to do is translate this.” He held out a roll of parchment.  “It came from one of your contacts.  I figured he might have some information we could use.”

Biting back a yawn, Phil nodded.  If the Winter Soldier really was on the Border with Karse, there was only one person the message could be from.  Antoine Triplett was a good man, and a better spy.  The information would be in hidden, but the cipher was familiar to Phil.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve decoded it,” he replied.

“See that you do,” Nick said.  “And Phil?  Don’t forget to sleep.”

~*~

Phil was still pondering the message from Trip two hours later.  Unable to sleep until he’d decoded it, he’d retreated to the library.  His bed was comfortable enough, but his thoughts refused to let him rest.  Firelight danced along the heavy wooden bookshelves around him, softening the shadows.  Phil let his eyes drift closed, warmed by the large fireplace in front of him.  The book he’d been using to translate the cipher was all but forgotten in his lap.  Phil’s thoughts slid into one another as sleep stole over him.

A soft chuckle nearby roused Phil from his doze.  Struggling to open his eyes, Phil turned, only to find Clint watching with laughter dancing in his eyes.  “Hey, Phil,” he greeted softly.

“Clint,” Phil replied, blinking a little.  He was a little surprised to find Clint in the library so late at night, but only because Phil hadn’t expected _anyone_ to find him.  “Can I help you with something?”

“No, I just…”  Sitting down next to Phil on the rug, Clint relaxed as the fire warmed him.  The dancing light turned his hair to burnished gold, and he looked achingly beautiful.  “I think I had the same idea you did,” Clint said, shooting Phil a shy smile.

“Hiding out in front of a warm fireplace from the Queen and Lord Fury?” Phil asked him.

Clint chuckled.  “I was going to say reading,” he replied, nodding towards the book still in Phil’s lap.

“Ah,” Phil said.  “I suppose I was trying to do that too.”

Smiling again, Clint knocked his shoulder against Phil’s.  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he said.  Phil couldn’t resist the urge to smile back.  “So,” Clint asked a few moments later.  “You hide in here often?”

Phil turned his eyes back to the dancing fire.  “Whenever I could as a Trainee,” he admitted with a small smile.

“Oh, yeah?”  Clint said, his eyes bright with interest.

Arching an eyebrow, Phil turned back to Clint.  “You seem surprised,” he said dryly.  Then he let the smile slide from his face.  “I used to love listening to my father read me stories in front of the fire.”  At the memories, his voice caught a little.  “He wasn’t home often, but when he was, I used to treasure those winter evenings.”  Phil trailed off, caught in the bittersweet grief of remembrance.  It had been a long time since his father had died, but the weight of sadness had never entirely left.

“My mother used to read to me too,” Clint whispered, his smile bittersweet.  “It was nice.”  Clint’s smile grew stronger as he shook himself, glancing towards the shelves of books.  “Before I came to the Haven and the Collegium, I’d never seen so many books in the same place,” he said, turning to Phil again.  “Had you?”

Phil shook his head.  “No,” he replied.  “My father had a few books, but nothing like this.  The first time I saw them all, I was speechless.  All I could remember were the stories my father used to tell me.  Of rooms full of books stacked high to the ceiling, containing answers to questions people hadn’t thought of yet.”

Clint smiled at him, but there was a sadness in his eyes.  “Your father sounds like a good man,” he said.

“He was,” Phil agreed.  “He was a healer by trade, but not in Valdemar.  I was born in Hardorn, and I served in the Army there before I was Chosen.”

Nodding, Clint turned his attention back to the fire.  “I travelled through Hardorn once,” he said softly.  “Nice people.”

Like every glimpse Clint had given Phil into his past, this one had questions clamouring in Phil’s mind.  He swallowed them down again.  Like Natasha, Clint seemed to have led a hard life before he was a Herald.  Phil didn’t want to push for answers Clint wasn’t willing to give.  “They are nice people,” Phil agreed finally, and Clint’s sharp look was grateful when he glanced back.  “Although, not the best cooks.”

Clint grinned.  “Yeah, they kind of boil everything, don’t they?”

Phil mock shuddered.  “My mother was particularly good at that,” he replied.  “A good woman and talented at many other things, but a horrible cook.”

The conversation faded away after that, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant.  Idly, Phil wondered if he should bring up Trip’s coded message with Clint.  If Clint was to be his partner, it was only fair.  And yet, Clint didn’t deserve to be caught up in Phil’s plans.  Phil didn’t think it would come to it, but he might to have to sneak out of Haven without Nick’s -- or the Queen’s -- permission.  Getting Clint involved in that seemed wrong.  Besides, no that Phil had managed to translate most of Trip’s note, his instincts were warning him something bad was hovering on the horizon.  Trip hadn’t entrusted much to the message, but Phil could read into the words.  Trip was worried, enough that he would only give his information to Phil in person.

_:You should tell him, Chosen:_ Peggy urged.   _:Clint can help:_

_:I don’t want to lead him into danger:_ Phil replied.

_:And how is that different from his life as a Herald?:_ Peggy said pointedly.   _:Danger is part of his life, whether you like it or not:_

_:Maybe:_ Phil conceded.   _:But that doesn’t mean I have to add to it:_

Maybe he was silent too long, or maybe he drifted into another doze, but when Clint nudged him gently, Phil blinked open eyes he wasn’t even aware he’d shut.  Phil was was surprised to find he’d slumped his whole body against Clint’s shoulder.  For a second, he sensed a wave of contentment and amusement from Clint, before Phil locked down on his Gift.  “Sorry,” he whispered, hoping the heat from the fire would hide the blush on his cheeks.

Clint shrugged and ducked his head, a shy smile on his face.  “It’s okay.”

“I suppose this means I should go to bed,” Phil said, even though he was reluctant to leave Clint’s comforting presence.

“Probably,” Clint agreed.  Something in Phil sparked at the trace of matching reluctance in Clint’s eyes.  “Want me to walk you back to your rooms, just in case you fall asleep on the way?”

Phil smiled.  “I’m sure I can manage,” he replied.  “But I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”  Clint ducked his head again.  “Of course.”

Phil’s chest warmed.  “Goodnight, Clint.”

Clint smiled.  “Goodnight, Phil.”

~*~

Phil awoke with a start, his hand reaching for his dagger.  With a deep breath, Phil reminded himself he was safe in Haven, not out near the Border.  His room was quiet, but even so, Phil could instinctively tell he was no longer alone.  Slipping the dagger back underneath his pillow, Phil ran a tired hand down his face.  He felt as if he’d barely been asleep for an hour.  Glaring in the direction of his small writing desk, Phil bit back a sigh.  Having people sneaking into his room and waking him up was not helping his temper in the slightest.  “Is something wrong, Clint?” he asked, trying not to sound too irritable.

There was the soft sound of a match being struck, before Clint lit a candle.  The light wasn’t overly bright, but it was enough to see.  Clint was standing next to the table, his face serious and his blue eyes snapping with anger.  “I suppose you could say that,” he said.  “Do you always sleep with a weapon close?”

Phil watched him for a moment.  “In my experience, it’s better to be paranoid than dead,” he said.  Clint chuckled humourlessly.  From what Phil had learned of the younger man, he knew Clint understood that concept well.  “Do you make a habit out of sneaking into people’s rooms?” Phil asked, arching an eyebrow.

A ghost of a smile flashed across Clint’s face.  “I used to,” he replied.  “Before… before Kate Chose me, I used to be a thief.”

Phil blinked and settled himself more comfortably on the bed.  “Well, that explains why Nick likes you so much,” he said.

Clint frowned, his face scrunching up.  “And what about you, Coulson?” he snapped, a thread of deep anger in his voice.  “Are we actually friends, or am I just not good enough for you to tell when you decide to run off on your own?”

“That’s not…” Phil began, but Clint cut him off.

“So you’re not planning on leaving for the Border as soon as you can?” Clint snapped, eyes bright with challenge.

_:I warned you that you should tell him:_ Peggy told him.

“And what makes you so sure that I am?”  It took more effort than Phil had expected to keep his tone level.

Clint held up a roll of parchment.  “You left this in the library,” he said.

Phil sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.  “And you read it,” he added.

“I read it,” Clint agreed.  “Were you ever going to tell me about it, or just leave?”

“I wouldn’t have just left,” Phil said tiredly.  “But I do need to go.  My contact wouldn’t have sent the message if it wasn’t important.”

Clint folded his arms over his chest.  “That doesn’t mean you have to go _alone_ ,” he snapped.

Phil arched an eyebrow.  “With the Winter Soldier out there, it’s dangerous.  I can’t ask anyone to come with me.”

“You can take me,” Clint replied firmly.  “Because if I’m not good enough to tell your plans to, I’m hardly likely to be missed if something happens to me, right?”

_:Chosen, you cannot let this boy continue thinking he means that to us:_ Peggy’s voice said sharply in Phil’s mind.

_:I know:_ he replied.

“Firstly,” Phil said aloud, fixing Clint with a fierce glare, “I want to make one thing _very_ clear.  Herald or not, I do not lead people out to die.  If you and Kate ride with us to the Border, you _will_ be coming back.”

Clint’s face had lost some of its anger, and he watched Phil with wide eyes.  “You can’t know that for certain,” he said quietly.

“No, but I can damn well die trying,” Phil snapped, his tone clipped and angrier than he’d intended.

_:I will be right there by your side, Chosen:_ Peggy said soothingly.   _:Together we will keep Clint and Kate safe:_

Phil took a deep breath to calm the storm of emotions and memories Clint words had evoked.  Clint was still watching him, the expression on his face something akin to wonder.  Sighing, Phil rubbed his hand over his face again.  “And secondly,” he added, “I’d miss you, Clint.  More than I can say.”

“You know,” Clint said after a moment, his voice rough and an unidentifiable expression on his face.  He cleared his throat.  “I didn’t believe the stories about Herald Coulson when I first came here.”

“And now?” Phil asked.

“Now… now I’m beginning see the man underneath,” Clint said quietly.  For a moment, he looked as if he was going to add something, but then he shook off the urge.  Instead, his gaze sharpened and he smirked.  The look was surprisingly attractive.  Phil cursed himself for thinking that way about a Herald he was supposed to be mentoring.  “We can drop the pretense, too,” Clint continued casually.  “I know Fury doesn’t just send you to the Border.  He sends you _inside_ Karse.  I have pretty good eyes.  I worked it out.”

Phil couldn’t stop his wry chuckle.  “Smart and insightful,” he muttered.

Clint’s answering smile was as sharp as his gaze.  “You have no idea.”

Shaking his head, Phil smiled wryly.  “So, did you just sneak into my room in the middle of the night just to yell at me?  Or was there something else you wanted to say?” he asked.  His gut was telling Phil there was something else bothering Clint.

The room was silent for a long moment.  “There’s… you should know something, if I’m coming with you,” Clint said quietly.  “There’s a lot people don’t know about me.  Things I’ve never told anyone.  I… I’ve been to Karse, before.  It wasn’t… I’ve seen what they do there.  What you’re trying to stop.”  He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing.  “I saw the Winter Soldier once too.”

Phil suddenly felt a swell of protective instincts towards Clint at the broken undercurrent in his voice.  “You’re stronger than you think, Clint,” he said.  “And if it helps, remember this time, you won’t be alone.  Kate will be with you every step of the way.  As will Peggy and I.  You’re not alone anymore.”

Clint considered that.  “Okay,” he agreed.  “But that works both ways, Coulson.  You and Peggy aren’t alone anymore, either.”

Phil’s heart pounded as Clint’s words hit him somewhere deep in his chest.  He drew in a deep breath.  “Thank you,” he told Clint, recognizing the offer for how rare it was.

“I guess I should go,” Clint said with another cocky smirk, as he rose to his feet.  “Natasha says you get really grouchy when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Phil scowled at both the teasing from Clint and Peggy’s laughing agreement in his mind.  When Clint headed for the window rather than the door, Phil arched an eyebrow.  “Is there a problem with my door that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

Clint grinned.  “I wouldn’t want to start any rumours if someone sees me leaving your room in the dead of the night,” he replied.

“Of course, because the window is so much better,” Phil said dryly.

When Clint laughed, Phil decided he wanted to hear the sound far more often.  Then Clint was gone.

~*~

 


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, Phil found himself preparing to leave Haven again.  Early spring was hardly an ideal time to travel, but the urgency of gaining Trip's information left no time to waste.  Crown Prince Thor was due to marry his beloved in only a few months.  Getting both Nick and the Queen to agree with the necessity of his journey had been difficult, but Phil had been adamant.  Surprisingly, it was Clint’s insistence at accompanying him had swayed Nick into finally agreeing.

A light rain had begun to fall, turning the snow to mush and freezing everyone to the bone.  As usual, the rain brought with it the scent of damp dirt and vegetation.  Icy water dripped uncomfortably down Phil’s skin as it slipped underneath his winter coat.   Spring might have officially arrived, but the chill of winter was still in the air.  It would make travel unpleasant.  Sighing, Phil adjusted the supplies Peggy would be carrying, trying to make her as comfortable as he could.  He tried not to curse and long for his warm bed.

“I have some more supplies?” Clint said, walking into the stables where Phil was securing the final straps on Peggy’s packs.

Clint’s blond hair was dark from the rain, sticking to his forehead, and his boots were splattered with mud.  Since they were traveling to Karse, neither Phil nor Clint would be wearing their Whites.  It was an attempt to keep their presence as hidden as possible.  Their Companions would be noticeable enough.  Karsites clung to the superstition that all white horses were demons.  Guilt still twisted Phil’s stomach.  Clint was a _Herald_ now, and he deserved to be treated as such.

“Where did you want them?” Clint asked, breaking into Phil’s thoughts.

When Phil blinked at him, he lifted the bags in his hands.  “Kate will have to take them if she can,” Phil replied.

Clint nodded, walking over to where Kate waited and running a hand down her neck.  Just beside the saddle sat Clint’s bow and quiver, two of his few prized possessions.  He ran his fingers over them with the same reverence he had given Kate.  “Do we have much more to pack?” Clint asked after he’d secured the bags to Kate’s saddle.

“No, that should be the last of it,” Phil told him.  Game was going to be scarce for a while, and Phil had wanted to be prepared.

By the time Phil and Clint were ready to leave, the rain had stopped, although there was no guarantee that it would stay away for long.  Phil swung himself into the saddle, adjusting his various weapons and bags so they wouldn’t poke him while he rode.  There was a tension running through his muscles too, much the same as he’d seen in Clint, and Phil couldn’t quite shake it.

_ :Relax, Phil:  _ Peggy said soothingly. _:We’ll be fine:_

_ :You don’t know that: _ Phil replied, giving voice to the doubt that had been growing in his mind.

Peggy was silent for a moment, but Phil could feel her amusement.   _:I have not seen you this protective of someone in a long time, Chosen:_ she said finally.

It was true.  Phil wasn’t sure where all his tangled instincts and emotions concerning Clint had come from.  Yet they were definitely there, lodged under his ribs as if he’d never be rid of them.  Part of it was because of what Clint had told him after sneaking into his room.  Phil could still hear the faint tremor in his voice and see the shadows in his eyes.  There was another part of Phil who worried about depriving Natasha of someone she cared about deeply.  Since Clint decision to join Phil, he’d been spending almost every free moment with Natasha.  Phil’s time in Haven had shown him glimpses into their bond, and he ignored the pull in his chest.  Clint and Natasha shared a closeness Natasha did not share with many others.  A familiarity often seen between lovers.  Not that it was any of Phil’s business what they were to each other.

Phil blinked out of his thoughts as a warm hand settled over his.  Natasha sent him a small, fond smile when she saw she’d caught his attention, but her eyes were sad.  She’d come to send them off, but Phil hadn’t noticed that she’d finished saying her goodbyes to Clint already.  “I’m sorry,” Phil said softly, “for taking Clint away from you.”

Natasha frowned.  “Clint isn’t mine to take,” she replied.  “Fury and I both agreed, as did Kate, that Clint would be a good partner for you.”  She cocked her head to the side and then smiled wryly.  “We’re not lovers, Phil.  He’s… my brother.  It’s a complicated story.  I promise that if Clint doesn’t tell you, I will when you return.”  The sad look re-entered Natasha’s eyes.  “It is not Clint I was worried about.  My concern is for _you_.”

“Me?” Phil echoed, surprised.

“Yes,” Natasha said softly.  “You.  I wish you could have stayed longer in Haven, and that the situation wasn’t so dire.  You get lost in your head so much these days, Phil.  I’m worried you’re forgetting that there are people aside from Peggy to rely on.  People who care about you.”

Phil blinked, not entirely sure what to say.  He settled for turning his hand in Natasha’s grip and holding tight for a moment.  Slowly, he stretched out his Gift and brushed his thoughts reassuringly against Natasha’s.  “I haven’t forgotten that,” he said softly.

“Good.”  Natasha pinned Phil with a fierce glare.  “Don’t forget who’s waiting for you to come back home, either.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Phil replied with a smile.

~*~

The journey to Karse was largely uneventful.  They took the South Trade Road that followed the path of the Terilee River.  During the warmer months of summer, the route was pleasant, with plentiful game and fish for eating.  Unfortunately, in the cold and wet of early spring, pleasant was the last word Phil would use to describe the road.  He’d expected them to have been living off their supplies, but with Clint beside him, they didn't have to.  Clint would disappear with his bow at sunset and come back with a rabbit, or a few scrawny early-season potatoes.  Phil was always grateful for the offerings.  One night, about a days ride from Horn, Clint had confessed to living rough as he’d travelled around as a kid.  Phil could tell there was more to the story, but he didn’t push.  What Clint chose to share with him was Clint’s choice.  Phil was happy with the company.  Probably more so than he was willing to admit.  There was an ease to travelling with Clint that Phil had never had with another Herald.  They’d fallen easily into rising with the sun, moving around each other with surprising ease as they packed up camp.  Silences when they rode weren’t uncomfortable, and conversation wasn’t awkward.

If not for their task, Phil would consider it the happiest he’d been in a long time.  Unfortunately, any joy steadily faded the closer they rode to the Border.  A tension had set in between Clint’s shoulders, and it was getting harder and harder to pull a smile out of the younger man.  Even Kate seemed to have trouble.  The land around them was also changing, turning duller and colder, the ground rockier.  Finding a copse of trees to shelter in at night was hard, but Clint never complained.  They were avoiding the Waystations on the way to Karse, much as Phil had when he’d journeyed home to Haven.  While a soft bed would have been better than sleeping rough, Phil and Clint were trying to sneak into Karse, and that was dangerous enough without being discovered by a Karsite spy.

Two weeks after leaving Haven, they crossed the Border into Karse.  Normally, Phil and Peggy would have circled around and entered through a neighbouring kingdom.  This time their ever-decreasing deadline meant a few more risks.  Thankfully, they stumbled across a merchant train a few days from the Border.  For a small coin purse, they joined the end, slipping across the Border without raising any undue attention.

It was close to noon, three days later, that they arrived outside of Volgograd.  The air was colder here, as harsh as the country and the tough people that lived there.  Phil resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders as they rode through one of the smaller city gates.  Volgograd rose up before them, grey and crumbling, the once great walls in decay.  The city was only three days ride from the Karse capital of Sunhame, but the wealth of the Sunpriests did not even stretch this far.  According to the history books, the city had once been imposing, bright and shining.  Before war and corruption had ravaged Karse, turning the country into what it now was.

Once inside the walls of the city, Phil nudged Peggy in the direction of the Old Quarter.  Her hooves echoed musically on the cobbled stones.  None of the old Mages lived there now, most killed off in the purges when Karse’s religion had been corrupted.  Most of the rooms were filled with the few that kept the whispers old knowledge.  The Sunpriests allowed little outside their temples, yet another way of controlling the people.  The quarter was quieter than the markets.  Most townspeople avoided the narrow, curving streets and the eerie hum that hung in the air.  When Phil closed his eyes, he could almost hear the ancient magic that still remained in the old stones.

A second later, Phil snapped his eyes open again as a shiver ran down his spine.  Something wasn’t right.  Keeping his hand loose on the reins, he moved his gloved hand closer to the knife on his belt.  He glanced sideways at Clint.  Whatever it was, Clint had sensed it too, and he gave Phil a small nod.

_ :Be careful, Chosen, there is someone watching us:  _ Peggy said.

For a long moment, nothing seemed wrong.  Then Phil heard the soft scuff of a boot against stone.  He carefully glanced around.  No one appeared suspicious, but his instincts told him someone was definitely following them.  Phil almost wished it was a thief, but the footsteps were too persistent.  Whoever was following them was no simple thief.

Clint closed his eyes, and Phil shot him a worried look.  He didn’t look in pain, and with a start, Phil realized Clint was using his Gift of FarSight to find out who was following them.  When Clint opened his eyes again, he shook his head minutely.  “We’re being followed by a young woman,” he breathed softly.  “Brown hair, dark eyes.  I don’t think she’s a threat.”

“Okay,” Phil whispered back, accepting Clint’s assessment.

Leaving the shadows of the Old Quarter behind, Phil and Clint slipped into the markets that had grown up just beyond it.  The markets were busy, the noisy atmosphere punctuated with shouts from vendors.  Phil hoped that would make it difficult for whoever was pursuing them.  “Fresh fish!  Just in from the coast!” a burly stallholder called out in Karsite.  Peggy neatly side-stepped out of the way.

Most of the crowd ignored the vendor, and Phil did the same.  Now that they were inside the city’s imposing walls, Phil began to notice all the heavily armed soldiers.  The townspeople all looked slightly fearful, the armed gate-guard grudgingly watching the crowds.  Fear was a common thing in Karse, and Malekith only seemed to have made it worse.  As always, the sight of such fear and hopelessness had Phil’s stomach clenching in anger.  He’d grown up in the relative freedom of Hardorn.  Not even war had managed to take that innocence from him.  Yet, as much as Phil wished for the people of Karse to be free, he bit his tongue.  Alone, two Heralds and their Companions could do little against the power of the Sunpriests.  Nick had the beginnings of a plan to stop the Dark Elves, and Phil would bide his time until everything was in place.

Beside him, Clint had tensed.  His shoulders were hunched, and his eyes darted all over the crowd.  Carefully, Phil reached out to settle a hand on Clint’s forearm and squeezed gently.  “Easy,” he said softly.

As they entered one of the main city squares, Phil stiffened in the saddle.  Peggy shifted beneath him, but he soothed her neck absently, even as nausea churned in his stomach.  Hanging from a large network of scaffolding were the bodies of three men.  They’d obviously been sentenced to death, victims of the Sunpriests’ harsh rule.  Phil didn’t risk glancing at Clint.  He just hoped Clint could keep the anger from his face.

_ :Chosen, this is awful: _ Peggy whispered in his mind.   _:We must stop such cruelty happening to these people:_

_ :We will:  _ Phil reassured her.

The sneering guard eyed both Phil and Peggy, before grunting.  Phil had been a little concerned with bringing two Companions into Karse.  Karsite superstition called all white horses ‘White Demons’ and regarded them with fear.  In the end, Trip’s message had been too important to waste time by traveling on foot.

“They rebelled against our hallowed Son of the Sun.  So we hung them like the criminals they are,” the guard muttered.

Phil nodded, fighting to keep his face impassive.  Death was not uncommon in Karse, although Phil doubted most victims were true rebels.  They were just good men who had dared show kindness in a cruel world.  Or those that stood up to the brutality of the Sunguard and their corrupt masters.  Phil moved along without another word, aware of Clint and Kate’s silent presence beside him.  His mind whirled.  Things were worse than he had thought if Malekith had this kind of influence already.  Phil spared a moment to be grateful that so far, people had escaped the punishment of the Cleansing Fires.  Unfortunately, there was little doubt that those next were destined for the flames.

Sliding slightly awkwardly from the saddle, Phil began leading Peggy further into the city.  Beside him, Clint did the same.  The inns Phil was looking for were a few streets over, backing right up to the impressive walls of the city.  It was a fact that had helped Phil sneak out of Volgograd more than once in the past.  Less than ten minutes later, Phil had lost the itch between his shoulders.  Whoever had been following them was gone.  The inn he’d been aiming for stood at the seedier end of the district.  The stone building had clearly seen better days, but no one would be looking for them there.  Nodding to Clint, Phil showed him the way to the small but clean hidden stables where they could leave Kate and Peggy.  Once the Companions were as comfortable as possible, they ducked back out onto the street.

~*~

Slipping into the shadowy _Hidden Arms_ , Phil blinked in the dim light.  Despite its location, the inn was moderately clean inside.  More importantly, the barkeeper wasn’t one to ask any questions.  Phil and Trip had a long standing arrangement to meet at the inn.  Trip had been the one to suggest it, somehow always finding the small, pre-arranged mark Phil left on his room door.  When his eyes had adjusted, Phil headed straight for the surly man behind the scarred bar.  Phil didn’t try to hide his face.  The barkeeper would recognize him, anyway.  Behind him, Clint hovered by the door, but Phil left him there for the moment.  Instead, he gave the barkeeper a bland smile.

The barkeeper gave Phil a hard look.  “And what do you want?” he grunted.

“Lodgings for two.”  Phil carefully slid him a bag of coins that was far more that what the rooms were worth.  That was how most business was done in Karse.  “Second floor, if possible.”

The barkeeper’s eyes gleamed when he saw the bag of coin, before he glanced up at Phil.  “Done,” he said, reaching below the bar and sliding over a key.  The bag of coins disappeared a second later.

“Thank you,” Phil replied.

Nodding towards Clint, Phil headed towards the back stairs and the rooms beyond.  It didn’t take long to find their room.  Phil carefully marked the door frame with chalk before following Clint inside.  The room was nothing special.  It was just large enough to contain two beds, a window, and a small fireplace, but it would do for what Phil and Clint needed.  Besides, Phil was thankful that for the first time in weeks, he was able to sleep in a bed.  It would be a welcome relief from sleeping rough, and the aches in his old bones.  Clint immediately crossed to one of the beds and sank down on it with a soft groan.  One leg dangled over the end of the bed, the other on the floor as he sprawled out.  He looked exhausted, and covered a yawn with his hand as he rolled his eyes upward to look at Phil.  In reply, Phil smiled.  Clint looked so incredibly inviting spread out on the blankets.  Phil had to swallow and turn away, before he gave into temptation and did something he would regret.  His attraction to Clint had only grown as he’d gotten to know Clint.  Their mission was the worst time to give into it.  Not only because Karse forbade men sleeping with each other, but also because Clint was under his guidance.  Phil would not abuse that trust, no matter his feelings.

“So, what next?” Clint asked from the bed, his eyes already drifting shut.

“Now, we wait,” Phil said softly.  “As soon as he can, Trip will find us.”

~*~

Less than an hour later, there was a sharp knock on the door.  His heart suddenly racing, Phil’s hand drifted to the knife on his belt.  Glancing sharply at the other bed, Phil saw that Clint had also jolted upright at the sound, and was holding one of his own knives.  Silently, Phil motioned for Clint to keep out of sight.  On quiet feet, Clint slipped over to the space to the right of the door, and nodded once.

“Hello?” Phil called out warily.

“It’s me.”

Phil breathed out slowly at the familiar voice.  Trip was here.  His hand still on his knife, Phil walked to the door.  He opened it cautiously, before standing back to let Trip inside.  “Hey, Coulson,” Trip greeted quietly, with a genuine smile.

“Trip,” Phil replied.

When a slim woman followed behind Trip, Phil was instantly wary.  He didn’t glance at Clint, but he didn’t have to.  The sudden tension in the room was obvious enough on its own.  Despite that, Phil trusted Trip, and whoever this woman was, Trip trusted her.  If he hadn’t, Trip wouldn’t have brought her along.  When Trip immediately crossed to stand in front of the fire, the woman followed him.  Her eyes flicked between Phil and Clint as she pushed her long brown hair away from her face.  “This is Skye,” Trip explained.  “She’s a friend.”

“You’re the one who followed us in the marketplace,” Clint said, his voice still rough-edged from sleep.

The woman blinked, her eyes widening a little.  “Yeah, that was me,” she said.

Phil arched an eyebrow at Trip, who shrugged.  “We wanted to make sure you weren’t followed,” he said, but his eyes cut warily towards Clint.

“You can trust Clint,” Phil said.

“Yeah, no offense Coulson, but how do we know that?” Skye broke in.

“Because _I_ trust him,” Phil told her.  “Besides, he’s a Herald, and Heralds are always trustworthy.”  Even as he said the words, Phil’s mind shuddered away from the alternative.  If a Herald ever disgraced his vows, the bond between Herald and Companion was severed completely.  The pain of that was enough to send the Herald mad -- if they survived at all.

“He’s a _Herald_?” Skye whispered, her eyes wide.

Phil nodded, and flashed her a small smile.  “We both are,” he replied.

Trip choked.  “Shit,” he muttered.  “You never said a word, Coulson.”

His face turned away from Skye and Trip, Clint rolled his eyes.  Phil fought the urge to smile back.  Instead, he reached out to brush his hand down Clint’s arm reassuringly as Clint walked passed.  At Clint’s nod, he turned his attention back to Trip.  “Heralds are not exactly welcome in Karse,” he said mildly.  “I thought it best to keep it a secret.”  Letting his amusement fade from his face, Phil glanced between Trip and Skye.  “So what information was so important that you needed to see me?”

“You know how you wanted me to keep an ear out for the Hydra envoy the Sunpriests were meeting?” Trip said.  “The envoy arrived in Karse two weeks ago, and he didn’t exactly hide his arrival.  And what was weirder, is he took rooms here in Volgograd instead of continuing on to the capitol.”

Phil’s eyebrows rose.  It was not a promising sign, particularly if the envoy was meeting the Sunpriests here instead of in Sunhame.  “Do we know who the envoy is?” he asked.

“His name is Rumlow,” Trip replied.  “Is that familiar to either of you?”

Shaking his head, Phil frowned.  “And he definitely met with the Sunpriests?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Trip’s expression was grim.  “He met with Malekith’s second in command, Algrim, himself.”

Phil closed his eyes.  This was _definitely_ not good.  “Why do I get the feeling that’s not even the bad news?” he asked.

Trip shrugged, his smile sardonic.  “Because it’s not,” he replied.  “I highly doubt Rumlow’s the brains behind the deal with the Sunpriests.  Which means that he’s here on orders from someone else in Hydra.”

Phil shivered.  When he’d last been in Karse, he and Trip had spent a month trying to track down a series of rumours.  A mysterious new group was apparently trying to ally themselves with the Sunpriests.  Normally, Phil would have left that sort of thing to Victoria Hand and her agents.  Only this time, the group, calling themselves Hydra, were supposedly from _outside_ Karse.  If that was true, Phil was not about to let the continent descend into war again.

“And that’s not even the really important bit,” Skye added.

“So then what is the really important bit?” Clint asked pointedly, glaring at her.

Skye glanced back, her dark eyes large in her pale face.  “He said he was working on behalf of someone on the Council of Valdemar,” she said.

“The _Council_?” Phil snapped, not wanting to believe it.

“I didn’t get much of a name,” Trip said, “but Rumlow kept referring to someone called Pierce when he was talking to Algrim.”

Phil’s heart froze, and his breath tangled in his lungs with the shock of those words.   _Pierce._  Lord Alexander Pierce.  Nick’s friend and one of the most respected members of Valdemar’s Council.  He was _Hydra_?

“I’m sorry, Phil,” Trip said softly.

_ :Oh, Gods:  _ Phil’s mind was spinning with all the terrifying possibilities.  He had to warn Maria.  He had to warn _Nick_.  They hadn’t seen this coming at all.   _:This… how is this even possible?:_

_ :I don’t know, Chosen, but you need to breathe: _ Peggy told him.  Her voice carried the same shock, anger and grief Phil felt echoing inside his chest.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Phil blinked out of his daze at a warm touch on his arm, only to find Clint standing in front of him.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Shaking his head, Phil stared back at Clint, the tangled emotions in his chest still strangling him.  “No, not really,” he finally replied.  “If one of the members of the Council is Hydra…  Then a group willing to deal with the Sunpriests for power is inside the borders of Valdemar.  We’re… the prejudice, the hatred… they were never supposed to be allowed to flourish as long as the Heralds were around.”

“It hasn’t,” Clint said firmly.  A muscle twitched in his jaw, his eyes narrowed.  “Not yet.  Hydra may have a toehold, but it’s not there yet.  We can still stop it, Phil.”

Phil drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  “We need to,” he whispered.  Then he steeled himself, and nodded once.  “We need to warn Lord Fury,” he said in a louder voice.

“We can get a message out, but it’s going to be tricky,” Skye said.  When Phil glanced at her, her dark eyes were watching him gravely.  “We can do it the same way we got the message to you.”

“Actually,” Phil said, his eyes darting back to Clint as another thought struck him.  “I have a different idea.  Clint… Nick said you had the Gift of FarSight.  Could you reach Haven from here?”

Clint blinked, and bit his lip.  “I think so?” he replied.  “I’ve never really tried.”  Then he frowned.  “But I’m not sure what good it would do, even if I can.”

Phil let out another breath.  “That’s where I come in,” he said.  “I have the gift of Thoughtsensing, and a strong affinity for Mindspeech.  I think, if we work together, we should be able to send a message straight to Lord Fury.”

“Directly?” Clint’s eyes were wide.

_ :Yes, Clint: _ Phil replied, using Mindspeech rather than his voice.   _:I can speak to most Heralds this way.  I just… prefer not to.  Not everyone likes their mind intruded upon:_

_ :Because you can sense thoughts, too: _ Clint said, although he only seemed curious instead of wary.

_ :Not exactly:  _ Phil told him.   _:As long as I am careful, I can keep my gift from sensing your thoughts when we speak like this:_

“Well, that’s a trick,” Clint said aloud, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

Skye glanced between them.  “You were having a spooky secret conversation, weren’t you?” she asked.

Phil tentatively matched Clint’s smile.  “I wouldn’t call it spooky,” he replied.  Stepping forward, Phil swallowed, unsure what to do next.  He’d heard the stories of other Heralds attempting similar things, but none of the tales came with practical instructions.  “We should probably try to send the message soon.”

Clint smiled, his hands reaching for Phil’s.  “Okay,” he agreed.

_ :You can do this, Chosen: _ Peggy reassured him.   _:And I will be here to help guide you:_

With a deep breath, Phil nodded once.  When both he and Clint were sitting comfortably on one of the beds, he carefully dipped his forehead to Clint’s.  Closing his eyes, Phil let out a slow breath.  Then, one by one, let down each of his carefully constructed mental barriers.  It was harder than Phil expected, his heart thundering at the prospect of letting someone in.  Someone who wasn’t Peggy, anyway.  At the same time, the presence growing in the back of Phil’s mind was solid and calm, and almost unobtrusive.  With his eyes closed, Phil could imagine Clint like a bright spark in his mind, lighting up the darkness and warming the cracks Phil tried so hard to keep hidden.

_ :You ready for this?: _ Clint asked, his mind brushing Phil’s.  A warmth and soft rasping laughter proved Kate was keeping an eye on them just as carefully as Peggy.

_ :As ready as I ever will:  _ Phil replied.

_ :Okay: _  Clint’s grip tightened on Phil’s hands.   _:Take a deep breath, and don’t let go:_

Phil barely had time to do as Clint had instructed before they were suddenly _moving_ with a dizzying lurch.  Blinking, Phil let out a breath.  The sensation of his chest rising and sinking was distant, but a thin thread was trying to draw him back to his body.  Phil realized with a nauseating _certainty_ that his mind and body were not occupying the same space anymore.  It was as if he and Clint were birds in the sky, wheeling and flying over the land.  Below them, the Terilee River stretched out, shining in the sun.  The fields slowly became greener as they flew, stretching the further from Karse.  When they finally found it, Haven looked just as beautiful from the air as it always had.  Phil’s mind lurched again as they spiralled down into Nick’s office.  The sensation was different this time, fainter and less sickening, the thread to his body pulled taut.

_ :Hurry: _ Clint said, and Phil could hear the strain. _:I’m not sure how long I can hold this:_

Finding Nick’s mind was easy, because Phil had done it before.   _:Nick?:_

_ :Phil?  Is this… how?  Where are you?: _  Nick’s thoughts echoed loudly in Phil’s mind, and he winced, feeling Clint do the same.

_ :We don’t have much time: _ Phil told him instead of answering.   _:A Hydra messenger entered Karse two weeks ago, and met with Malekith’s second in command.  They’re definitely working together, but that’s not the important part.  The messenger is working for someone on the Valdemar Council, Nick.  Pierce is Hydra:_

Revulsion shuddered through Nick’s mind and into Phil’s, the closeness of their thoughts melding them together for a moment.   _:Pierce?:_ Nick asked.  Phil could tell Nick didn’t want to believe it.  He felt Nick’s heart was breaking, even though Nick couldn’t deny the truth of what Phil was telling him.  Even without their years-old friendship, Phil couldn’t lie to him with their minds touching.   _:I’ll deal with this:_ Nick said, letting out a deep breath as he squashed his rioting emotions down. _:Just, hurry back:_

_ :Be careful:  _ Phil warned him.  Then his mind snapped backwards in a sickening rush, darkness threatening at the corners of his vision.

Sucking a shuddering breath, Phil blinked away the black spots.  He found himself half slumped on the bed, Clint sprawled out beside him.  Skye was worriedly watching them both, as if they might keel over at any moment.  Phil wasn’t sure what he looked like, but when he turned to the side, Clint’s face was pale and his mouth had curved downwards in a grimace.  If Clint’s head was pounding with pain anything like Phil’s, Phil couldn’t blame him.

“Are you okay?” Skye asked softly.

“I think so,” Phil replied, shocked when his voice came out hoarse.  “Clint?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, his eyes still shut and his voice even rougher than Phil’s.  “Just give me a minute.”

Grimacing, Phil reached up to press his fingers to his temple.  His head _hurt_.

_ :The pain isn’t only yours, Chosen:  _ Peggy said, and Phil was confused by the thread of laughter in her voice.

_ :What are you talking about?: _ he asked.

_ :Take a deep breath and find out: _ Peggy told him.

Following her advice, Phil sucked in a lungful of air and let his eyes drift shut.  He was startled to find that bright, warm spark of Clint’s mind still hovering inside his defenses, even though Phil’s walls were back up.  It was as if Clint no longer needed to be let into Phil’s mind, because he was there already, lighting the shadows and warming Phil from the inside out.  Phil snapped open wide eyes, his breath caught in his throat.   _:We_ Bonded _?:_ he asked Peggy.

She laughed in his mind, and Phil could feel the echoes of Clint’s amusement too.   _:I think the bond between you and Clint has been growing since you first met, Chosen:_ Peggy said.   _:But it is solid now.  He is your Bonded.  This is how it should be:_

Phil opened his mouth, and then shut it again without saying a word.  He turned helplessly to Clint.   _:Do you mind?:_ he asked Clint hesitantly.

Clint sat up, his eyes wide.   _:Do I_ mind _?:_ he snapped, jarring the pain in Phil’s head.   _:Phil, you’re joking, right?  You’re… This isn’t exactly the best place to talk about things, but trust me, being upset about this is the_ last _thing I’m feeling right now:_

_ :You…?  Really?: _  Phil sent, because he could _feel_ the wave of emotions Clint was sending him, full of warmth and affection and… was that lust?

_ :Yes, really: _ Clint replied.

“Shit,” Trip cursed suddenly from where he was standing by the window, cutting off anything else Phil could say.

“What is it?” Skye demanded.

“Three Sunpriests are here.  They’re heading straight for the inn,” Trip said, shooting Phil a sharp glance.  “I think it’s time to go.”

Gathering their belongs as quickly as he could, Phil pulled on his coat as Clint quickly uncovered his bow with nimble fingers.  “What’s the best way out of here?” he asked Phil quietly.

“The back stairs,” Phil told him, before shooting a glance up at Trip.

Nodding back, Trip slipped out of the room to scout the way, Skye on his heels.  Hurrying, they all made their way as fast as they could down to the back of the inn.  The door to the alley that ran behind the building was locked, but Trip had it unlocked in a few seconds.  Phil paused in the doorway, searching the shadows for anyone waiting for them.  So far things seemed clear.  Turning, Phil headed for the stables where Peggy and Kate were waiting for them.  When he heard footsteps behind him, he glanced back to find Trip and Skye following them.  “We’re coming with you,” Skye told him before he could ask.

“You’re going to need the help,” Trip added.

With the Sunpriests only around the corner, Phil ignored the knot of fear in his stomach and decided not to argue.  “Fine,” he agreed.

Before Phil could say anything else, loud voices caught his attention.  He cursed inwardly as two drunken men staggered into the alley just ahead.  Hoping to avoid a confrontation, Phil motioned to Clint to move behind him.  The last thing they needed was the two men to see him.  Carefully, he attempted to slide past the stumbling men.  Phil easily sidestepped the first, but as he did the same to the second, his foot slipped on the wet cobblestones.  For an agonizing minute, a terrifying sense of premonition surged through Phil.  He could almost see what was coming before it happened, but could do nothing to stop it.  Phil staggered just as a hand tried to grab him from behind, sending him straight into the second drunken man.  “Hey!” the man snapped -- loudly.  “What’d you do that for?”

Glancing upwards, Phil pasted his most unremarkable expression on his face.  He tried not to wince at the strong smell of alcohol washed over him.  “I’m sorry…” he began, only to have his words cut off with the large man gave him a shove.

Stumbling backwards, Phil almost fell, but hung onto his balance by the skin of his teeth.  “Now wait…” he began again, but this time he was interrupted by the large fist flying towards his face.

Phil’s years of training had him reacting in an instant and without conscious thought.  His arm shot up to block the widely swung punch, even as he snapped his other arm out towards the large man’s jaw.  He wobbled backwards a step.  Phil blinked, having not realized the man was so drunk.  Using this to his advantage, Phil ducked under the man’s next swing.  He spun away as the man pulled out a knife, growling with anger.  Phil dodged when the man swung, twisting his upper body sideways to avoid the blade.

“Phil!” Clint called out.

Pivoting, Phil snatched the long pole out of the air as Clint tossed it towards him.  Now armed, he caught the drunk man’s next strike on the wood.  The man growled again, even angrier at Phil’s improvised weapon, and lunged again.  This time, Phil swept the end of the pole upwards, and it hit the man’s wrist with enough force to make him drop the knife.  Then, he reversed the movement, the other end of the stick slamming into the man’s temple.  The drunk sagged to his knees, before crumbling to the ground.

Straightening from his slight crouch, Phil glanced at the second body at Trip’s feet, then at the mouth of the alley.  His heart still pounding with the rush of the fight, Phil swallowed.  He hoped the Sunpriests hadn’t heard enough to come and investigate.  Phil listened for a long moment, but aside from a soft groan from one of the now-unconscious drunks, all was quiet.

Then the whinny of a nearby horse broke the silence, and Phil’s blood froze in his veins.

The Sunpriests.

Heart hammering in his throat, Phil glanced at Clint as he broke into a run.  They needed to get to the stables -- and _fast_.

Shouts from the end of the alley near the inn had Phil glancing over his shoulder again, and he cursed when he saw two Sunpriests.  Both were Dark Elves, and one held a bow in his hands, which had Phil’s heart skipping a beat.  Dark Elves were cruel, vicious and preyed upon the weak.  They were also fearsome hunters, and had been known to chase their victims for days.

“Phil!”

Stumbling again on the damp cobblestones, Phil jerked his head forward again.  A third Dark Elf stood in front of him, sword in hand and swinging straight for Phil.  Throwing himself forward, Phil felt the breeze as the sword cut through the air just above his head.  Using his momentum, Phil rolled back to his feet.  Instinctively Phil drew his knife, even though it would do little against a well-trained Dark Elf with a sword.

“Herald,” the Dark Elf spat, his eyes narrowed.

“Dark Elf,” Phil replied.

The Dark Elf swung again, and Phil pivoted, aiming for the Elf’s stomach with a sharp kick.  The Dark Elf grunted, but the blow did little to faze him.  Retaliating faster than Phil expected, the Dark Elf slammed his fist into Phil’s cheekbone.  The blow had enough force to send Phil’s vision swimming.  Blinking away the pain, Phil grunted.  The Dark Elf kicked his wrist, causing Phil to lose his grip on the knife.  Glanced up, Phil saw the Dark Elf’s sword descending for his unprotected head, and his heart froze in his chest.

A second later, an arrow slammed into the Dark Elf’s chest.  He staggered backwards, his eyes going wide, as a second arrow hit his heart.

“Let’s go!” Clint yelled, and Phil turned to see Clint beside him, bow still grasped in his hand.

Clint grabbed Phil’s arm and tugged him to his feet.  “The other Elves?” Phil asked, shaking off the lingering pain and trying to force his thoughts into action.

“Dead,” Clint said grimly.

Sprinting down the alley, they headed straight for the small stables.  The stables were lit by a small flickering torch that did little to remove the shadows.  The light was enough to see by, and it didn’t take long until they were ready to leave.  “We need to get out of the city, fast,” Trip said, leading his own horse out of the stables.  “It won’t take the other Sunpriests long to find out what happened here.”

“Head for the east gate,” Phil told him, as he swung onto Peggy’s back.

Beside him, Clint was doing the same with Kate.  Phil spared him a glance to make sure he was unhurt, before he tightened his grip on the reins.   _:Go:_ he urged Peggy.

They burst out onto the dark streets with the echoing clatter of hooves.  Phil cursed when he caught sight of several more Sunpriests heading straight for them.  Arrows clinked against the stone buildings around them, cutting the air as they passed.  Phil bent his head low over Peggy’s neck to make himself a smaller target as they thundered towards the east gate of the city.  Their only hope was to make it before the Sunpriests mounted their own horses, and were able to give chase.  As they crashed through the now closed markets, Phil urged Peggy into the lead.  The breath seized in Phil’s lungs when he noticed the arrows were not just coming from behind them anymore.

“Left!” Clint shouted, right before two dark-robed riders cut them off.

Peggy surged to the left, away from the mounted Sunpriests and their arrows.  Leaning further forward, Phil winced as an arrow sliced through the air close enough to cut his cheek.

The crescent moon provided barely enough light to see as they burst from the city gate, scattering guards in their wake.  Beside Phil, Clint was doing his best to pick of their pursuers with his bow, his aim true.  Arrows thudded into the wooden gate near Phil, shouts echoing as the Sunpriests crashed through the gate behind them, calling for reinforcements.  Phil’s blood chilled at the thought.

The Sunpriests were faster than Phil expected.  As he and Peggy raced over the rocky ground away from Volgograd, they got cut off from Clint.  The Sunpriests swarmed around Phil, three of them trying to drag him from the saddle.

_ :Chosen!: _

Phil grunted and held on as Peggy twisted, trying to shake off the grasping hands of the Dark Elves.  Clint shouted, and over the bond humming between them, Phil could sense Clint’s worry.  Ahead of Phil, Trip broke away from the crush, wheeling his horse around to face the Sunpriests.  Phil lost sight of him as beefy hands snagged the back of his clothes and yanked him from the saddle.

Grabbing his knife, Phil spun on his foot as soon as his boots hit the ground.  He slashed at the nearest Dark Elf, struggling to get free.  Snarling, the Elf staggered back a few paces and let go of Phil’s jacket.  Seeking more open ground, Phil drew on all the tricks he’d learned over the years as he ducked and ran.  Sweat trickled down his back, and the scent of blood hung heavily in the air.  A jagged sword whistled through the air towards Phil’s head, but he dodged to the right.  Sweeping out his foot, Phil aimed at the Sunpriest’s knee.  He surged up and grabbed the hand that held the sword.  Pivoting sharply, Phil slammed his elbow back towards the Sunpriest’s throat.  Ruthlessly, he snapped the Dark Elf’s arm and snatched the sword with a vicious twist.  Phil shifted his grip on the sword’s hilt, before swinging the blade, his entire shoulder and arm behind the blow.  The sword sliced through the Sunpriest’s unprotected neck.

“Kill the Herald!”

The bellowed order sent several Dark Elves racing towards Phil, and he braced himself for the coming fight.  As the first Dark Elf reached him, Phil spun and lashed out with a vicious kick.  In the same movement, he brought up his sword to meet the second Dark Elf’s attack.  Phil rolled away from the force of the blow, and slashed out with his knife.  The second Dark Elf staggered backwards a step.  Not daring to stop, Phil sank low to avoid the first Dark Elf’s slash.  The curved sword cut through the air above Phil just as Phil caught a glimpse of the third Dark Elf bearing down on him on horseback.

Doing the only thing he could, Phil threw himself forward into a roll.  He came up on one knee as the mounted Dark Elf abruptly wheeled his horse around to chase Phil.  Surging to his feet, Phil sprinted forward.  He shoved his knife back into his belt, heading straight for the small horse carrel just off the road. Behind him, the pounding of hooves almost drowned out the thundering of Phil’s heart.  Without hesitating, Phil used the lower rung of the fence to leap up and grabbed the taller hitching posts with his free hand.  Whipping his body around, Phil drove both his feet straight into the chest of the mounted Dark Elf.  The Elf was so surprised, he tumbled from the saddle before he could raise his sword.  Landing in a crouch, Phil staggered back to his feet, and drove the point of his sword mercilessly into the Dark Elf’s heart.

Thudding footsteps behind Phil warned him the other Sunpriests were closing in.  Sacrificing his grip on the sword, Phil turned to meet them.  Then, suddenly, waves of fiery pain exploded through Phil’s stomach.  His eyes snapping wide open in shock, Phil looked down.  He stared uncomprehending at the large black arrowhead that protruded from his abdomen.  His hands came up to cradle the wound, hot, sticky blood seeping out from between his fingers.

“Phil!”

Clint’s shout echoed through the air, filled with anguish.  It somehow mixed with Peggy’s own cry in his mind.  Phil raised his head, hoping for one last look.  He sank to his knees in the mud, a tear slipping down his face.  After everything that he’d done, Phil couldn’t quite believe this was how his life was going to end.

_ :I’m sorry: _ he told Peggy.

_ :No, Chosen, hold on.  Please don’t leave me: _ Peggy begged.

Strong arms caught him as he slumped forward, stopping Phil from tumbling face down into the mud.  Phil was vaguely aware of other hands pressing down on his.  Pain stabbed through him, and Phil gasped.  The hands pushed down harder, trying to stop the flow blood soaking through Phil’s clothes.  Phil wanted to tell whoever it was that it was pointless, the knowledge weighing heavy in his mind.  He was already fading.  He tried to fight it, but he was just so tired, even though he didn’t want to die.  Not now.  Not like this.

“Phil, _please_.”  The rough, tear-filled voice broke through Phil’s fractured thoughts.  He gazed up through hazy eyes at the face that hovered above him.

Clint.

Clint was trying to save him.  Of course he was.

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but it took a few tries for his mouth to form the words.  “I’m… sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that,” Clint replied fiercely, tears tracing paths down his cheeks.  “Come on, Phil.  Please.  Hang on.  Just hang on.”

Darkness reared up before Phil could reply.  It swallowed him with a finality he’d never felt before, but even as he faded, he heard the words whispered through his mind.

_ :Phil, please don’t leave me.  Please: _

~*~

 


	4. Chapter 4

With a soft groan, Phil blinked open eyes to a world he hadn’t been sure he’d ever see again.  For a moment, he struggled to figure out where he was.  The bed underneath him was soft, and there was a low fire burning in the nearby hearth.  Beyond the window, Phil could see the moon was almost full.  He swallowed, his throat dry and sore.  Now that he was conscious, a dull, burning agony had started radiating out from his stomach, sapping the strength from his lungs.

“Easy,” a soft voice told him, before a cool hand rested on Phil’s forehead.  “You’re in Haven.  You’re safe.”

Turning his head slightly, Phil blinked up at Bruce Banner.  One of the best Healers in Valdemar, Bruce was kind, but preferred to stay out of sight.  Phil had first met Bruce on his travels, well outside the borders of Valdemar.  Bruce had been on the run, haunted by his past, but he’d helped Phil anyway.  Phil would always be grateful for that.  These days, Bruce’s face was a little more lined, and his curly, dark hair was mixed with a silver.  Even so, his dark eyes were still kind, even if something heartbreaking dwelt in their depths.

“How?” Phil rasped, grateful when Bruce moved to offer him a cup of water.  The water tasted sweet as it trickled down his throat.

“Peggy sent word, and Pepper and Rhodey brought you back,” Bruce explained softly.  Phil blinked, slightly awed by the combination of power that must have needed.  Rhodey, a FarSeer like Clint, and Pepper, Gifted with Fetching, had to ability to transport objects over large distances.  Theoretically.  Phil had never heard of it done with a _person_ before.

“That’s…” he tried to say.

“Ssh,” Bruce said.  “Don’t try to talk yet.  Rhodey and Pepper are still sleeping, but I’m sure they’ll be along to visit you as soon as they can.  You were going to die, Phil.  There’s a lot of people in Haven, and beyond, who would give up a lot to stop that from happening.”

Something warm unfurled in Phil’s chest.  Then he was hit by a thought that made his blood turn to ice.  “Peggy,” he said.  “ _Clint_.”

“They’re still on their way back,” Bruce told him.  “You’ve been unconscious for three days, but even Companions can’t travel that fast.”

Phil closed his eyes, tears leaking out from behind his eyelids.  He was hurting and exhausted, and wanted the comfort of the two people he loved most in the world.   _:We are coming, Chosen:_ Peggy’s voice told him faintly.   _:I promise:_

Exhaustion rose up to claim Phil again, the short conversation sapping all the energy he had.  “Sleep,” Bruce whispered, as Phil lost the battle to stay awake.  Bruce’s warm hand was a comforting weight on his shoulder as he drifted off.

~*~

The next time Phil opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming in through the window.  His head throbbed, and every bone in his body seemed to ache, but the sensation was far less painful than the last time he’d woken.  Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Phil glanced around the room.  Sucking in a breath, he very carefully pushed himself up.  Phil leaned back against his pillow, the blankets covering him sliding down his chest.  Thankfully, the dull pain rippling through his entire body didn’t flare into agony, so Phil counted it as a win.  Phil recognized the room as one in the House of Healing, and he let the relief of being safe sink into his mind.  The muscles of his stomach pulled painfully, and Phil lifted the hem of his loose shirt.  The skin of his abdomen was pink and tender, the wound where the arrow had hit him almost completely healed over into a scar.  Closing his eyes, Phil felt them prickle with tears of gratitude.  Bruce was a Master-Healer and had a lot of power, but Phil still hadn’t expected his wound to be almost gone.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Phil carefully lifted the blankets and shifted to swing his legs over the side of the bed.  Only, before he could, Maria walked in holding a cup of tea.  “And just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her blue eyes fixing Phil with a sharp look.

Helplessly, Phil sighed, and climbed back under the blankets.

“That’s better,” Maria said, sitting down on the edge.  “Now drink this.  Bruce’s orders.”

Phil took the cup, because he knew better than to argue with a Queen.  A small smile played at the corner of Maria’s mouth at his acquiescence.  The tea was surprisingly nice, and the warmth immediately soothed Phil’s throat.  “So what brings you to my humble bedside,” Phil asked, his voice still rough.

Maria glanced away.  “You almost _died_ , Phil,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t intend to let the Sunpriests shoot me with an arrow,” Phil replied.

Rolling her eyes, Maria fixed with him a stare.  “I know,” she said.  “But don’t think Natasha isn’t going to have words with you about it, anyway.”  Then she arched an eyebrow.  “Now, are you going to be a good patient and stay in that bed?”

“Do I have a choice?” Phil asked dryly.

“No,” Maria replied, a smirk curving her mouth for a second.  Then her eyes turned serious.  “But I need to talk to you about what’s happened, anyway.”

“How bad is it?” Phil asked quietly, his grip tightening on his mug of tea.

“Not good,” Maria replied, a flash of grief flickering through her blue eyes.  “Pierce escaped.  It turns out we shouldn’t have been worried about the Sunpriests having command over the Winter Soldier.  We should have been worried about Hydra.”

The icy claws of fear clenched Phil’s heart.  “Who…?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Nick is _fine_ ,” Maria told him, reaching out to cover one of Phil’s hands with hers.  Phil squeezed back gratefully.  “He managed to escape before the Soldier could land a fatal blow.  He’s hurt, but healing.  I promise.”

Phil closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath.   _:Nick?:_

_ :I’m here, Phil.  I’m okay: _ Nick replied.

Reaching out to Nick had been instinctive, and Phil wasn’t sure if he was grateful his friend had responded or worried about the pain heavily lacing Nick’s mind.  He might have been alive, but Nick was _not_ okay.

_ :I will be:  _ Nick sent dryly.   _:Pierce just got in a lucky hit to my shoulder.  It feels worse than it is:_  Nick’s tone became reproachful. _:Besides, which one of us almost_ died _?:_

_ :Well, I didn’t, did I?:  _ Phil sent.

_ :Smartass: _ Nick shot back.

As the fear receded, Phil blinked open his eyes again, reassured that Nick was going to be okay.  “I assume Nick is already busy making a nuisance of himself?” he said to Maria.  “How many times have you had to banish him from his office already?”

“Hush, you,” Maria said with a teasing smile.  “You’re just as bad.”

Phil smiled faintly back, before he took a deep breath.  “And the others?” he asked.  Pierce might have been giving the orders, but there was no way he was working alone.

Maria grimaced.  “Lord Garrett was captured, along with his protégé, Lord Ward, when they tried to get to me,” she said.

Phil tightened his grip on her hand, trying to give what little comfort he could.  Finding Hydra, their enemy, deep within their own country had been devastating enough.  Yet, Maria had worked with the Council more than Phil ever had.  She was their Queen.  Mercy, Pierce had even been trying to _marry her to one of them_.

“I think their goal was to seize control of Valdemar.  They were going to use the Winter Soldier to kill anyone who resisted,” Maria continued softly.  “Starting with the Queen’s Own.”  She looked up at Phil, her eyes bright.  “I think their plan was still for me to marry Ward, or I would have been a target too.”  She glanced away again, and sucked in a breath.  “Captain Rogers and a healer by the name of Sam Wilson saved me.  The two of them have gone after Pierce and the Soldier.”  She hesitated, glancing back at Phil.  “Natasha has gone with them.  Apparently, there is a complicated past between her, the Captain, and the Winter Soldier.”

Phil blinked, surprise whispering through his mind at the implications of _that_.  “Hopefully, they can explain it all upon their return,” he said finally.

Maria gave a short chuckle, some of the heaviness slipping from her gaze.  “I missed your unflappability, Phil,” she said.  “It’s good to see it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around for the rest of the chaos,” Phil replied, guilt shivering through him.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” Maria snapped with a pointed glare.  “Without your message, they would have caught us completely unaware.  I shudder to think of how many more good people we would have lost.  You almost died for that, Phil.  So don’t you dare apologize.”

Phil ducked his head, suddenly blinking back tears.

“I think that’s my cue to leave and let you get some more sleep,” Maria said.  “You need your strength, and I need your steady presence by my side.”

Phil smiled.  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, just to see the scowl on Maria’s face.

She rolled her eyes.  “Sleep,” she ordered, rising to get feet.  “And if I catch you sneaking anywhere near Nick before you’ve done that, there will be hell to pay.”

~*~

Phil spent most of the next week sleeping.  It was a relief, as it left him little time to worry about Clint and Peggy.  He missed their presence like a dull, persistent ache in his chest.  It felt as if someone had carved out a piece of him and taken it away.  The bright, steady presence of Peggy in the back of his mind grew stronger as she got closer to Haven.  Nestled beside it was the warm, tingling spark that Phil was learning to recognize as Clint.  They were both so exhausted and faint.  Phil should tell them to stop pushing so hard, that he wasn’t worth them hurting themselves.  But he selfishly wanted to see them both so much.

Six days since he’d first woken up back in Haven, Phil groggily woke just before dawn.  He wasn’t sure how, but he was absolutely certain in that Peggy, Clint and Kate had just entered the edge of the city.  Struggling up, Phil barely took the time to pull on a long coat Maria before he was out of the door.  Despite the strength he’d slowly been regaining, Phil was still weak.  By the time he made it out to the stables, his new scar throbbing painfully.

The exhaustion and pain ceased to matter when he caught sight of Peggy.  Her white coat was dull with dust and her blue eyes dim with exhaustion.   _:Chosen, you are awake!:_ her voice rasped in his mind.

“Peggy,” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes as he stumbled forwards.  As soon as he was close enough, Phil reached out to touch her neck with his hand.  Sweat clung to her skin and her muscles trembled with fatigue. _:I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry:_ he told her, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead gently against hers.

_ :I am just glad you still live, Chosen: _ Peggy replied.   _:And I am not the only one.  As much as I never wish for you to leave my side again, you need to reassure your Lifebonded that you still breathe:_

_ :In a minute: _ Phil replied, not ready to let Peggy go yet.   _:I just need another minute:_

Finally, Peggy shifted back and used her head to nudge Phil in Clint’s direction.  While Phil had been clinging to Peggy, Clint had slid from Kate’s saddle, but that seemed about as much as he could manage.  He looked _awful_.  His eyes were bloodshot, shadowed with deep purple, and he hadn’t shaved in at least a week.  His clothes were dusty and torn, hanging loose on his frame, as if he hadn’t even paused long enough to eat.  Agony stabbed through Phil’s heart, because that was Phil’s fault.  He’d done that to Clint.

“Hey, Phil,” Clint rasped in greeting, lifting his head a little.

By now Herald-Trainees and Heralds were pouring outside.  They gathered around Peggy and Kate to rub them down so they could rest, but Phil only had eyes for Clint.  He managed a few steps, before staggering over a loose stone.  Clint’s  arms caught him easily, but Clint’s grip lacked its usual strength.  “Easy,” he said softly.  “Should you be out of bed?”

“Shut up,” Phil told him.  He crowded closer so he could pull Clint into the tightest hug he could manage.  Clint sagged into it with a muffled sob.  His hands tightened in the back of Phil’s jacket, dragging Phil as close as he could get.   For a long moment, Clint just hugged Phil as if Phil was the only thing keeping him from falling.  Phil clung back, just as desperate, his arms wrapping tightly around Clint.

_ :I'm sorry: _ he whispered into Clint’s mind.   _:I’m so sorry:_

_ :I’m just glad you’re alive: _ Clint whispered back.

Everything Phil wanted to say tangled on his tongue.  He was torn between anger that Clint had let himself be run so ragged, and bewildered joy that Clint would do that for _him_.  Or at least, Phil assumed he was the cause.

“Phil,” Clint said, pulled back with a sharp glare.  “Stop being stupid.”  Phil blinked, because he’d been so careful not to let their minds touch too deeply.  He never wanted his Gift to read any thoughts Clint wasn’t willing to share.  Clint smiled.  “It’s written all over your face,” he said softly.

Leaning forward, Clint pressed his forehead against Phil’s with a sigh.  “It’s good to see you,” he said.

“It’s good to see you too,” Phil replied, helpless to resist the brave, stubborn man in front of him.

A loud commotion on the other side of the stables broke the quiet bubble around them.  Phil glanced over enough to see Maria stalking towards them, Bruce trailing after her.  “And what do you think you’re doing out of bed, Herald Coulson?” she snapped.

Clint shrank back a little, but Phil only tightened his grip around Clint’s waist.  Turning an impassive face towards his Queen, he straightened up until he was standing as tall as he could.  “I’m greeting Clint, Your Majesty,” he said.  “Did you need me for something else?”  This close, Phil could see the rumpled state of Maria’s Whites, and the lines of exhaustion on her face.  “You should be sleeping,” he added in a low voice.

“ _I_ should be sleeping?” Maria said, her eyebrows shooting up.  “I’m not the one who was shot with an arrow.”

Clint shuddered, but nevertheless straightened his shoulders and faced down Maria.  “Your Majesty…” he began.

“Oh, don’t you start.  You’re ready to fall over, so don’t think I’m not ordering you straight to bed too,” Maria replied with a scowl.

“Perhaps you’d allow me to check them over first?” Bruce interjected, his eyes full of sardonic humour when Phil glanced at him.

“By all means,” Maria said dryly, before she fixed Phil and Clint with a sharp stare.  “But if I catch either of you up and talking to Nick, or practicing archery before Bruce clears you, I will bring down my wrath.  Got it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Phil and Clint answered back together.

Maria huffed.

~*~

After the Queen banished them back to the House of Healing, Bruce checked Clint over thoroughly.  Phil’s stomach clenched every time Bruce tutted softly at Clint’s state.  When Bruce was finally done, he waved Clint off to lie down.  Phil had been prepared to be stubborn about it, but Bruce seemed to understand and had set Clint up in a bed right next to Phil’s.  “You both need sleep,” Bruce warned them as he left.

“I’m not sure what you think we’re going to get up to,” Clint muttered.  His voice was still rough with exhaustion.  “But I’m going to be asleep in three seconds.”

And he had been.

Phil had stayed awake, reading one of the books Lord Sitwell had smuggled him, before succumbing to his own nap.  The day had passed peacefully, Clint only waking at Bruce’s insistence for meals.

Everything seemed fine until Phil returned from his customary walk with Maria in the early evening.  Clint was whimpering softly, curled into a tight ball on his bed, with his hands fisted in the blankets.  Phil rushed forward as fast as he dared, his heart clenching when Clint sobbed his name.  “Phil,” he breathed, eyes squeezed shut against the tears slowly tracing down his cheeks.

Phil dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hand catching Clint’s when the younger man reached blindly for him.  Clint gripped tightly back, as if Phil’s hand was the only thing keeping him in the world.

“I’m here, Clint.”  Phil willed his voice not to break, brushing his lips against Clint’s forehead.  Clint’s thoughts were a swirling mass of pain and fear, but Phil didn’t dare more than to brush against them.  “I’m here.”

The room darkened as twilight faded, but there was enough light for Phil to see the look on Clint’s face as his eyes snapped open.  There was an aching sadness there, mixed with a bright spark of hope.  “Phil,” he said in relief and recognition, the shadows of his nightmare fading.  “I thought… I mean…”

Phil smiled sadly.  “It was just a nightmare,” he said softly, using his free hand to brush away Clint’s lingering tears.  “I’m here.  I promise.”

“Good.”  Clint drew in a shuddering breath.  “That’s good.”

Even with a rug covering the stone floor, Phil’s knees were beginning to ache.  He shifted uncomfortably.  Clint’s grip immediately tightened on his hand as Clint’s eyes went wide.  “Please don’t leave,” Clint said.

Phil had to swallow before he could trust his voice.  His eyes prickled with his own tears, his heart breaking at the idea of ever leaving Clint behind.  Phil wasn’t sure he ever could, not anymore.  “I’m not leaving,” Phil whispered.  “My old bones just aren’t very good at kneeling on the floor.”

Clint huffed out a watery laugh.  “Then come here,” he said, tugging on Phil’s hand, even as he shifted over in the bed.  “Please?  I don’t… just sleeping?”

Phil was no stranger to the comfort of touch, and he nodded, smiling in reassurance as Clint’s eyes softened in relief.  It should have been awkward, shedding his coat and boots under Clint’s watchful gaze.  Instead, there was something comforting about it.  A connection not just because of the new Lifebond between them, but born from quiet nights by the campfire on the way to Karse.  Carefully, Phil climbed into the bed, settling on his back in an attempt not to pull on his still-healing scar.  Clint curled hesitantly around him, his hand finding Phil’s again and tangling their fingers together.  “Is this okay?” Clint asked softly.

Phil shifted closer to Clint’s solid warmth.  It had been so very long since anyone had shared Phil’s bed.  Phil had almost forgotten the comfort of another body pressed against his.  “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out strangled.  “This is more than okay.”

He felt Clint’s smile against the skin of his neck, and then listened as Clint’s breathing deepened as he fell back asleep.  Phil lay awake a while longer as the room darkened further, etching this moment into his memory forever.

~*~

Phil was roused early the next morning by a gentle hand on his shoulder.  Blinking, Phil shifted slightly to find out who had woken him.  Clint made a noise of protest and rolled over to wrap a strong arm around Phil’s chest.  Helplessly, Phil glanced up.  Betty Ross, another of the senior healers in Haven, smiled back, her blue eyes dancing with laughter.  Then she winked and retreated back outside the room.  Fighting a blush, Phil turned back to Clint.  In his sleep, Clint’s face looked younger than his years, the lines of his rough life smoothed away.  Phil’s breath caught in his lungs as an invisible hand reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart.  He wanted nothing more than to wake up like this for the rest of his life.

“Clint,” he whispered softly.  “Clint, I need to get up now.”

“No,” Clint muttered grumpily.  His arms tightened further around Phil and his eyes remained stubbornly shut.

“As much as I would like to stay, the Queen is expecting me,” Phil told him.  Unable to stop himself, Phil brushed Clint’s hair back from his forehead.

Clint blinked open his eyes and Phil was lost in the blue mixed with green and gold for a moment.  “I suppose if you must,” Clint finally relented, his voice gravelly in a way that sent shivers down Phil’s spine.

“I will return,” Phil assured him.  “Perhaps we can take a walk to the Companion’s Field after lunch?”

Clint ducked his head and gazed up at Phil through his lashes.  The combination had both Phil’s heart and stomach lurching.  “I’d like that,” Clint replied.

Phil smiled, happiness bubbling up in his chest.  “Then I fear you will have to let me go,” Phil said when Clint showed no sign of doing so.

Clint blushed, but nevertheless, relinquished his grip.  “Sorry,” he said.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Phil replied.  He carefully untangled himself from the bed, immediately missing Clint’s warmth.  Before he could stop himself, he brushed his fingers over Clint’s cheek in farewell.

Betty was waiting for him as he slipped quietly out of the room.  Her smile was mischievous as she walked with Phil towards the Palace.  “I thought you might prefer a wake up call from me this morning, rather than one of the Trainees,” she said.

Phil flushed, and then cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Ah, yes.  Thank you,” he replied.

“You don’t need to be so embarrassed, Phil,” Betty said.  “Bruce is much the same in the mornings.  The Healer-Trainees have long since learned to wake me instead, even in an emergency.  Handily, I’m in the same bed as Bruce most nights, so it doesn’t take much.”

“I… uh…” Phil stammered.  He hadn’t known Bruce and Betty were lovers, or more than that, and wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

Betty giggled softly.  “I didn’t mean to fluster you either, Herald Coulson,” she said.  “I only meant to say that Bruce talks about you a lot.  Particularly about how you met.  You helped give him the chance to find acceptance and a home here.  I’m glad you’re finally letting yourself find a little happiness too.”

Phil swallowed thickly.  Thankfully, he was interrupted from coming up with something to say when Betty paused and nodded down the corridor to the Council Chamber door.  “I’ll have someone bring you breakfast,” she said, “but you’d better not keep the Queen waiting.”

“Thank you,” Phil told her softly.

Betty smiled.  “You’re most welcome.”

~*~

Six hours later, Phil excused himself from the Council’s never-ending debate.  He didn't want to talk about the consequences of Hydra’s recent actions anymore.  He was exhausted.  Phil’s feet took him towards the Companion’s Field before Phil had made a conscious decision, driven by his need to see both Peggy and Clint.  The meeting had run long, and Clint hadn’t been able to wait.  He’d sent apologies via Peggy and Kate, but Phil couldn’t begrudge Clint the need to see his Companion.  Much the same need had sat heavy in Phil’s stomach all morning.

When Phil got closer to the Field, he heard the sound of bright, happy laughter that was unmistakably Clint’s.  Phil could see him, hand tangled in Kate’s mane as he fed her apples.  Or rather, as he held out an apple and then danced it out of the way when Kate made to take a bite.  Judging by the patient way Kate hadn’t nipped at his fingers yet, she didn’t mind the game.

Natasha was leaning against the fence nearby, watching Clint with an indulgent smile.  Her Companion Sharon was nuzzling at her shoulder, seemingly equally indulgent.  Phil hadn’t expected Natasha to be there.  He’d thought she’d still be hunting for the Winter Soldier with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson.  At Phil’s approach, she turned her smile on him.  “I was wondering when you would show up,” she greeted.

Phil arched an eyebrow, even as he eyed her with concern.  Natasha was worn and tired, but unharmed, aside from a small cut on her jaw and a bruise at her temple.  Phil let out a silent breath of relief.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” Natasha said as Phil settled against the railing beside her.  “I’m _fine_.  You’re the one who nearly wasn’t.”

_ :That is true:  _ Peggy agreed and Phil glanced up with a smile to see her trotting towards him.   _:Although, once again, you seem to have out-stubborned death:_

Phil smiled.   _:Nick has taught me well:_ he agreed.

Peggy huffed, her laughter echoing through Phil’s mind.  She nudged his shoulder when she was finally close enough, and Phil obliged her by stroking his hand down her neck.  At the touch, something unclenched around Phil’s lungs.  He could finally breathe deeply again.  “So,” he said after another moment, turning to Natasha.  “I didn’t expect to see you back in Haven so soon.”

“I got back this morning,” Natasha replied.  “The Winter Soldier is long gone from Valdemar’s borders, and I…”  She turned to Phil and smiled sadly.  “I do not have the connection to the Soldier that the good Captain has.  It is a long story, but Wilson has stayed with him to continue the search.”

Phil nodded.  “If you need someone to listen, I am here,” he told her softly.

Natasha shrugged.  “I owe the Council that story soon enough,” she said dryly, before shooting Phil a look.  “Besides, I believe I already owe you the story of how Clint and I met.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Phil said.  Then he blinked.  “Wait… if you were in Haven this morning, how did you get out of that damned Council meeting?”

Natasha grinned, short and sharp.  “I have my ways, Phillip,” she replied.

Huffing, Phil rolled his eyes.  He climbed up to sit on the fence, throwing an arm over Peggy’s neck to help keep his balance.  The sun was warm on his skin, and he could stay and watch Clint for hours.  Clint looked beautiful in the sunlight, his hair shining with gold and his eyes so blue against his Whites.  When Clint finally glanced up, he waved at Phil, but Phil was under no illusions that Clint had not seen him already.  Kate, sensing Clint’s distraction, stole the apple from his hand, and Phil tried not to laugh.

“Heralds are allowed to fall in love, you know,” Natasha said quietly.

Phil glanced away from where Clint was now glaring at Kate to find Natasha giving him a pointed look.  The expression in her eyes was serious, and Phil doubted he could deflect her.  “I know,” he replied.  “I just…”

He trailed off, not sure he was ready to admit out loud that he was in love with Clint.  Even if Natasha already knew, voicing his feelings would mean he would have to face them.

Natasha reached over to rest her hand on Phil’s, and squeezed gently.  “You’re going to have to talk to him at some point,” she said.  “You’re Lifebonded.”

Phil choked a little on the air in his lungs.  “Do I even want to know how you found that out?” he asked when he could finally speak again.

_ :I hate to say it, Chosen, but it’s written all over your face:  _ Peggy said.   _:Also, Kate and I would both like it if you could bed Clint soon, please:_

Phil spluttered again, his face heating.  “I… you… _Peggy!_ ”

Natasha laughed.  “I’m not sure what Peggy just told you, but if I were you, I’d follow her advice.”

Phil glared at Peggy, who just laughed at him again in response.  Sighing, Phil rubbed a hand over his face.  “It’s not that simple, you know,” he muttered.

Natasha hummed.  “Why not?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to be his mentor, not take advantage of him,” Phil said quietly.  Clint had rarely spoken of his past, and when it had, it was usually in hushed whispers.  From the few stories Phil had pieced together, there had been enough people in Clint’s life who’d used him for their own gains.  Phil refused to be another.

Natasha laughed.  “Phil, I love you, but you need to open your eyes.  Clint has been flirting with you since the first moment he met you.”  She shook her head slightly as Phil blinked in surprise, suddenly running through every interaction he and Clint had ever had.  “I admit,” Natasha continued, “Clint’s version of flirting is unlike anyone else’s, but he’s never seen you as just a mentor.  You won’t be taking advantage.  Besides, are Lifebonds ever wrong?”

_ :Natasha is right: _ Peggy agreed firmly.   _:His eyes light up whenever you are around, Chosen:_

Phil frowned.  “I’m not bedding Clint just because of a bond,” he said stubbornly.

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “No, you’ll take him to bed because you love him,” she replied.  “And because he loves you back.”

_ :Exactly: _ Peggy agreed.

Phil tightened his grip on Peggy as his world seemed to shake around him.  “He’s really in love with me?”

Natasha let out a slow breath, and turned to Phil with suddenly serious eyes.  “Clint is… He’s the family I never had.  And for a long time, I think I was the only person he trusted.  He’s been through a lot, things he should tell you about himself, but… He saved my life.”  Natasha’s lips curved up into a bitter smile.  “I escaped from the Cleansing Fires as a child and taken to the Red Room for training by the Sunpriests.  It was not a life that fostered trust, and yet one day I met this boy in the marketplace.  I was running from the Sunpriests by then, and instead of turning me into them, he hid me.  Smuggled me out of Karse.  He saved my life.”

Phil had known the bond between Clint and Natasha was strong, but the story explained much.  Smiling sadly, Phil looked over at Clint, who was teasing Kate with another apple.  He was so young, yet he’d been through so much.  “That sounds exactly like Clint,” he said.

Natasha’s smile warmed and she leaned against Phil’s arm again.  “Give him a chance, Phil,” she said.  “And give yourself one.  You deserve to be happy.”

Phil let out a breath.  “I’ll try.”

~*~

Phil was crossing back towards the Palace for yet _another_ meeting when a hand grabbed his.  Startled, Phil spun on instinct, and it took him a moment to realize there was no danger.  Clint’s expression was faintly sheepish when Phil blinked and stepped back.  “Sorry,” Phil muttered, his cheeks heating.  “I’m sorry, Clint.”

Clint grinned.  “I should have expected it,” he replied, a little rueful.  “You’re kind of scary when people sneak up on you.”

Guilt and horror tightened Phil’s stomach, sending it churning.  “Hey, no,” Clint said, grabbing Phil’s other hand when Phil took another step back.  “That’s a compliment, Phil.”  His blue eyes were earnest, but his smile turned bittersweet at the edges.  “It’s kind of nice knowing someone like you is watching out for me.”

“Of course I am.”  Phil swallowed, taking a step forward.  “Clint… Is everything okay?”

Clint ducked his head.  “I was… I was going to escape with you.  I know it’s not the best plan, but I wanted to see you and you’re always stuck in meetings.”

Phil swallowed, something warm unfurling in his chest.  Spending an afternoon with Clint sounded wonderful.  Especially if it was somewhere the Council couldn’t find him.  Phil longed to talk to Clint, to maybe share a meal or two.  No matter what Natasha and Peggy said, it was more than the bond driving it.  Although, Phil had to admit that they’d both been right when they'd teased him about wanting to bed Clint.  It was just more than that too.  Phil was beginning to suspect it really was love.  “Did you have somewhere in mind to go?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  Clint grinned.  “I know somewhere we can hide.”

He tugged on Phil’s hand, and Phil gave in with a smile.   _:Peggy:_ he started to say.

_ :Yes, Chosen, I will tell you if the Council need you for anything important: _ Peggy replied.   _:Go.  Spend time with your bonded:_

_ :Thank you: _ Phil replied, and Peggy chuckled with amusement.

Clint led him into the Palace, and down a twisting path of hidden corridors and stairs.  Somehow, they ended up on the _roof_ , which Phil hadn’t even thought was possible.  The grounds, Collegia and Companion’s Field were spread out below, patches of green and brown showing among the snow.  Phil took a deep breath of the cold air and felt his shoulders relax for the first time in _days_.

“You work too hard,” Clint told him.  His sharp-eyed gaze studied Phil carefully, even as Clint guided him to a more secluded corner.

A pile of blankets and a pillow told Phil this was a special place to Clint.  Glancing over at the younger man, Phil blinked at Clint’s faint blush.  “I just need to get away sometimes,” Clint said with a shrug.  “Being up high helps clear my head.”

“I can see why,” Phil said, smiling softly.  “Thank you for showing this to me, Clint.”

Clint grinned, but there was a gleam of mischief in his eyes.  “If I’m being truthful, I had an ulterior motive for bringing you up here,” he admitted softly.

“Oh?” Phil asked, completely distracted from the view by the blue of Clint’s gaze.

Gently, Clint pushed Phil back against the stone wall.  “Yes,” he replied, pushing inside Phil’s space until their lips almost brushed.

Phil swallowed heavily, his heart suddenly pounding.  The wall was cool at his back, and Clint’s body was hot and strong as he settled against Phil.  “Can I kiss you, Phil?” Clint asked, his breath warm against Phil’s skin.

“Please,” Phil whispered, barely daring to breathe in case Clint stopped.

The kiss was soft and slightly hesitant, barely more than the soft press of lips, but it rocked Phil right down to his bones.  He melted against Clint’s hard body, pressing in closer, but keeping the kiss soft and chaste.  After a wonderful, perfect minute, Clint pulled back, his eyes wide.  Phil struggled to gather his thoughts, still not convinced he wasn’t dreaming.  Reaching out, he brushed his fingers along Clint’s jaw to feel the rasp of stubble, and caught the flinch that Clint couldn’t quite hide.  Phil immediately pulled his fingers away, ignoring the way they tingled and itched to touch Clint again.  “Clint?” he said softly.

Clint stared at his feet.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  He raised stricken eyes to Phil’s.  “I’m sorry.  I _know_ you’re not going to hurt me, it’s just…”

“Instinctive,” Phil finished for him when Clint trailed off.  “You don’t have to apologize for that, Clint.”

Clint huffed, bitterness flashing through his gaze.  “It’s not exactly sexy,” he said.

Something told Phil that Clint wasn’t the most experienced at kissing, and there was a lot more bravado than he wanted Phil to see.  Stepping forward, Phil carefully cupped Clint’s face, making sure Clint could duck away if he really needed to.  His smoothed his thumbs along Clint’s cheekbones, smiling when Clint closed his eyes and sighed.  “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t have to worry about not being sexy,” Phil said.  “Not to me.”

Clint’s eyes snapped open.  “I don’t?” he whispered.

“No.”  Phil smiled faintly.  His feelings were sitting heavy on his chest, making it hard to breathe, but it was time to let them out.  Phil _needed_ to say them, and Clint definitely deserved to hear them.  “You caught my attention the first time I saw you, Clint, and you’ve held it ever since.”

“Because of the Lifebond?” Clint asked, and Phil could see the dawning hope in his eyes.

“Yes.  No.”  Phil huffed.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it was the bond.  All I do know is that you intrigued me, and then you amazed me, both with your skill with a bow and your sharp intelligence.  I don’t know when it became more than that, but it did.”  Phil let out a breath.  “I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, Clint.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked, pushing forward to wrap his arms around Phil’s waist.

“Yes,” Phil agreed.

“Good,” Clint said.  “Because I _know_ I’m falling in love with you.”

The grin that spread across Phil’s face was so wide it hurt.  “Yeah?” he breathed, echoing Clint’s earlier question.

“Yes,” Clint said firmly.

Leaning in, Clint kissed Phil again, just as softly as the first time.  Phil let him take the lead, happy to have Clint in his arms.  The kisses were sweet, but slowly deepened as Clint relaxed, crowded closer to Phil and pressing him more firmly against the wall.

“You don’t have to be anywhere for a while, do you?” Clint asked a while later, pulling back to catch his breath.  His voice was gravelly, the rough edge sending a shiver down Phil’s spine.

“No,” Phil replied with a smile.  “I’m all yours.”

Clint grinned, bright and happy.  “Thank you,” he said, and pressed another brief kiss to Phil’s lips.  “I, um, asked Marie to bake me a small chocolate cake.  I thought you might like to share it with me?”

Phil had to swallow thickly at the obvious thought Clint had put into this.  “I think that sounds perfect,” he agreed when he was sure of his voice again, and let Clint lead him over to the blankets in the corner.  “Just perfect.”

Clint grinned.

~*~

“There you are.”

Phil glanced over to see Maria standing near his quiet corner of the library.  If Phil happened to be sitting near a window that just, by chance, showed a good view of Clint practicing with his bow, well, it was just random coincidence.  Reluctantly turning away from the view, Phil nodded at his Queen.  “Here I am,” he agreed.

Maria frowned.  The dark shadows under her eyes had faded a little, but she still looked tired.  “Phil, we need to have a talk,” she said grimly.

“Is this about Hydra?” Phil asked, moving to get up.

Waving him back into his seat, Maria sat down in the chair opposite.  “Actually, it’s more… personal.”

Phil blinked in surprise, and more than a little fear.  “Do we have to?” he asked, because nothing good ever followed those words.

“Oh, stop panicking,” Maria said.  “It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it _will_ ,” Phil insisted.  “You’re terrifying, and I don’t have to stand for this.”

There was a loud sigh from the doorway.  “I thought this might happen,” Nick’s dry voice said.  Phil glanced over to see him leaning against the doorway, one arm still held in a sling across his chest.

“Go away, Nick,” Maria said.  “I can handle this.  Phil and I are just having a friendly talk.”

Nick shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he walked further into the room.  “No, you’re not,” he said.  “You’re arguing.  There’s a difference.”

Maria narrowed her eyes at him, but Nick seemed unrepentant.  Phil noted with amusement that Nick’s shoulders looked a lot more relaxed.  Hopefully, he and Maria had finally sorted out the tangled feelings between them.  “Actually, I was just sitting here,” he protested.  “She’s the one that started all the trouble.”

Nick turned to him with raised eyebrows.  “You know, I’ve never met a man more stubbornly against talking about his own feelings that you, Phil,” he said.

Phil blinked, before it was his turn to narrow his eyes.  “What is this?” he asked.

Maria sighed.  “We really just wanted to talk to you, Phil.”

Carefully setting down his book, Phil straightened his shoulders and shifted so he could look both of them in the face.  “Okay,” he said.  “What is it?”

“He looks like he’s about to be led to his death,” Maria said with a roll of her eyes.

Phil grimaced, finally working out what Nick and Maria were there to talk to him about.  “If this is about my feelings for Clint, I can assure you Natasha and Peggy have already prodded me about them,” he said.

“And are you going to do anything _about_ your feelings?” Nick asked pointedly.

Phil glared.  “And if I don’t?” he shot back.

Maria sighed.  “Phil,” she said quietly.  “We just want you to be happy.  The problem is that I don’t think you’ve been happy in a very long time.”

Nick nodded.  “I know you can be a stubborn bastard, Phil, but you don’t have to sacrifice everything to do your duty.  You’re allowed to be a little selfish.  You’re allowed to let yourself love someone.”

Phil sighed.  “That’s almost exactly what Natasha and Peggy said,” he admitted wryly.

“Well, are you at least going to think about it?” Maria demanded.

Phil bit back a smile, his thoughts immediately going to the kisses he and Clint had shared on the roof.  He hadn’t told anyone.  Peggy already knew, and Phil wasn’t sure if he was willing to admit to them out loud yet.  As much as his growing feelings for Clint felt a lot like the love he’d always longed for, Phil was happy keeping them to himself for now.  There’d be plenty of time to talk about them later.  “I will,” he said.

“Good.”  Maria nodded.

~*~

 


	5. Chapter 5

The knock at the door was soft, but enough to stop Phil sliding the rest of the way into sleep.  For a moment, Phil considered shoving his head underneath his pillow and ignoring it, but it could be important.  Phil forced himself out of bed with a muttered curse and walked over to open the door.  “Yes?” he demanded, blinking when it wasn’t Nick like he’d been expecting.

Clint winced.  He looked awful.  His face was pale and drawn, dark shadows like bruises under his eyes.  He wasn’t wearing his Whites either.  Instead, he was clad in worn grey sleeping pants and a loose shirt, his feet bare.  Clint had clearly been trying to sleep, and his hair was rumpled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it.  It reminded Phil of Clint just after he’d returned from Karse, despite the muscle Clint had regained.  “Sorry, sorry,” Clint muttered.  “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“No, wait,” Phil replied, gently grabbing Clint’s arm to stop him from leaving.  He wondered what was haunting Clint so much he couldn’t sleep.  “Clint, what’s wrong?”

Clint glanced back up, studying Phil’s face carefully.  “It’s just nightmares,” he said softly.  “I shouldn’t…”

“Yes, you should,” Phil interrupted.  He gently tugged Clint into his room, and shut the door to give them a little privacy.  “Tell me what I can do to help?”

Clint crumpled, his shoulders hunching inwards and his breathing turning ragged.  Helpless, Phil pulled Clint into his arms and hugged him tightly.  “It’s okay, Clint,” he whispered into Clint’s hair.  “You’re safe.”

Clint’s hands fisted in the back of Phil’s pajama shirt, and he buried his face in Phil’s shoulder.  “Can I stay with you tonight?” Clint asked after another long moment.

“Of course,” Phil said immediately.

Phil ran his hand down Clint’s back soothingly, not entirely sure what to do.  He was no stranger to nightmares, but he wasn’t sure what would help ease Clint’s fears.

After a moment, Clint pulled back enough to see Phil’s face again.  “You always make me feel better,” he said, a hint of a smile curving his mouth.  “Why is that?  Is it the bond, or are you just that good?”

Phil offered him a wry smile.  “I have no idea,” he replied.  “Have you tried asking Kate about the bond?”

Clint blinked, then he grimaced as he listened to whatever his Companion was saying.  “Apparently, you’re just that good,” Clint said finally, laughter appearing in his eyes.  His face looked less drawn now, and some of the tension in his shoulders had disappeared.  “Kate says being reassuring is your magic power.”

Phil sighed, and rolled his eyes.  “It’s not magic,” he protested.

“It kind of is,” Clint said.

Warmth bloomed in Phil’s chest at the sincerity in Clint’s eyes.  “Come on,” he said, tugging Clint towards the bed.  “I think we both should be sleeping.”

Clint yawned widely.  “Good plan,” he said a little sheepishly.

They climbed into bed together, but it took a bit of wiggling before Clint was happy.  He ended up curled around Phil, their legs tangled and his face inches from Phil’s.  It should have felt strange, but Phil had missed this since their nights in the House of Healing.  Lying next to Clint, Phil’s Gift made it impossible not to sense the background hum of Clint’s thoughts.  It was nothing specific, but it was comforting all the same.

“This okay?” Clint asked him softly.

Phil hummed, already half asleep again.  “This is more than okay,” he replied.  He smiled when Clint relaxed against him, Clint’s body pliant and surprisingly heavy.  Yawning, Phil tightened his grip on Clint before sleep dragged him under.

~*~

_ :Chosen: _

Peggy’s voice dragged Phil from sleep.  The undercurrent of urgency had Phil blinking to try and clear his mind as fast as possible.   _:What is it?  What’s happened?:_ he asked.

Beside him, Clint was tense, his muscles rigid.  Phil slid a hand down his back, and Clint tightened his own grip in response.

_ :They’ve found Pierce.  He’s dead: _ Peggy said.

_ :Holy shit: _ Clint said.  Shock and a sort of vicious satisfaction echoed through Phil’s mind with the words.

Phil blinked.  Clint’s hands were warm on his skin, and the contact combined with Phil’s Gift allowed Clint’s thoughts to brush his.  Phil was grateful for Clint’s steady, bright presence in the back of his mind.  He felt almost numb, the report of Pierce’s death not really sinking in.

“Come on,” Clint whispered.  His hands slid out from under Phil’s shirt and smoothed it down soothingly.  “We should find Lord Fury.”

Phil nodded.  Climbing out of bed and away from Clint’s warmth was hard, but they needed to find out what was going on.  With a bittersweet smile, Clint headed back to his room to change into his Whites, while Phil pulled on his own tunic and trews.  He returned just as Phil was tugging on his boots, and Phil was grateful for Clint’s comforting presence.

_ :You are strong, Chosen.  And we are here for you: _  Peggy reminded him.

Letting his eyes slip closed for a moment, Phil felt a rush of love for his Companion.   _:I know:_ he told her.

“Phil?” Clint asked softly.

“Sorry,” Phil replied, opening his eyes and rising to his feet.  “I’m coming.”

Clint stretched out his hand as soon as Phil was close enough, tangling their fingers together.  Phil smiled in thanks, squeezing Clint’s hand for a moment in gratitude.

Together, they turned and headed for Nick’s office.  On the way, they stumbled across Trip and Skye, both of whom looked grim.  Phil hadn’t spent much time with either of them outside of meetings, too caught up in the chaos of the past few days.  “Coulson,” Trip nodded in greeting.

“Trip,” Phil replied.  He attempted to ignore Skye’s flash of grin when she noticed he and Clint were still holding hands.  Phil studied Trip’s grave face for a moment.  “Bad news?”

“Hopefully not,” Trip replied.  “I’m on my way to meet Lord Fury and the Queen.  I assume you are too?”

Phil nodded.  “Yes.  We heard about Pierce.”

Skye blinked.  “Pierce?” she asked.

“He’s dead,” Phil told her softly.

“That’s not your news?” Clint replied.  He shot a look at Phil.  “This is going to end with us on a mission somewhere, isn’t it?”

“Such is life as a Herald,” Phil told him dryly.

The silence was thick and heavy as they all continued towards Nick’s office.  When Phil pushed open the door, he wasn’t surprised to see Jasper and Melinda sitting beside the Queen.  “I see you heard,” Nick said grimly at Phil’s entrance, waving them all in.

“Peggy told me,” Phil confirmed.

“No one told us,” Skye said as she followed them in.  She ducked back behind Trip at Nick’s sharp glare.

Assorted chairs littered the office, none of them matching.  They were a testament to the many meetings held in Nick’s office over the last week.  Phil nudged one of the smaller wooden chairs next to another, so he and Clint could sit close.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Nick eyed him for a second, his gaze warming as it drifted down to where Phil still gripped Clint’s hand.  Phil smiled back.

“Right,” Nick said.  “The short version of events is that Pierce is dead.  He snuck back into the Palace last night, possibly to get something he left behind when he fled.  We’re still trying to figure out what exactly it was.”  Nick drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before he continued, his voice softer.  “Natasha and I found him on our way to the kitchens.  We raised the alarm, but Pierce grabbed her…”

Phil nodded, because he could imagine what had happened next.  Natasha was not helpless, and Nick had always viewed her as the daughter he’d never had.  Between the two of them, Pierce was lucky that they could only kill him once.

“So you killed him,” Clint said, his voice hard with anger and his eyes fixed on Nick.

“So I killed him,” Nick confirmed, his gaze never leaving Clint’s.

Clint nodded once.  “Good,” he said.

Phil stroked his thumb over Clint’s knuckles, trying to offer what comfort he could.  Clint glanced at him, his eyes softening.  “I’m okay,” he whispered.

Nodding, Phil let his thoughts brush Clint’s gently, just enough to reassure Clint that they were all safe.  “And where is Natasha now?” Phil asked Nick.

“Trying to figure out what Pierce risked coming back for,” Nick replied.

Phil’s eyebrows rose.  “You think it’s important for whatever Hydra is planning next,” he said.

“I do,” Nick replied.

“It makes sense,” Jasper added.  “Pierce might have betrayed us, but he was also smart.  He would have known we were after his blood.  Coming back to the Palace would only be worth it if he’d left something important behind.”

Phil blew out a sigh.  Of course.

“That’s not all that happened last night,” Trip said, breaking the following silence.  Everyone turned to him, and he shrugged, offering a small smile.  “It’s good news, if that helps,” he added.

“We could do with some good news,” Melinda said dryly.

Phil smiled when Trip glanced at him.  “This is about Victoria Hand,” he said quietly.

Trip nodded.  “It’s big, Phil,” he replied, before glancing at the others.  “I don’t know how many of you believe in the Gods, but last night V'kandis Sunlord made his presence known.”

“Wait, what?” Clint said, his eyes wide.

“Natasha is going to want to hear this,” Maria added.

Trip nodded, and they paused for a moment as they waited for Natasha.  One of the Companions of those gathered would pass on the message.  Phil had learned a long time ago that Companions were the fastest way to pass anything around the Palace.  Including gossip.

Natasha slipped inside the office a few minutes later, a smile on her face.  “Malekith is dead?” she asked.

“Yes,” Trip said with a nod.  “Apparently the Sunlord himself appeared before the Sunpriests to cast Malekith and the rest of the Dark Elves out.”

Natasha closed her eyes for a second.  Phil couldn’t imagine how she felt at the news.  Phil was happy and hopeful that things in Karse could change for the better, but Karse was not his homeland.  Opening her eyes again, Natasha walked over to perch on the arm of Clint’s chair.  She clasped his free hand tightly between both of hers.

“That’s not all,” Trip continued.  “The Sunlord also proclaimed a new Son of the Sun.”

“Who?” Nick demanded.

Trip grinned.  “Victoria Hand.”

Phil laughed.  “I bet she loved that,” he said wryly.

Shrugging, Trip glanced at him again.  “Her message was actually pretty happy sounding,” he replied with a grin.

Phil was glad.  If anyone could help fix all the damage to Karse the corruption had wrought, it would be Victoria Hand.  Removing the Dark Elves from power would help, but it would take a long time for the shadow of corruption to disappear.  Hand would have her hands full dealing with it all.  Hopefully, Hand could effect other changes too.  Phil had seen the glances she and her second in command, Isabelle, had sent each other when they thought no one was watching.  Maybe now they would no longer have to hide their love.

“Are you telling me Victoria Hand is now the leader of Karse?” Nick asked.

“Yes, sir,” Trip replied.

Maria grinned.  “We should send a message at once,” she said.

“We also need to find out what Pierce was looking for,” Melinda pointed out.

“Skye and I can help with that,” Trip offered.  He offered a smile when Melinda turned to eye him speculatively.  “You said you saw him on the way to the kitchens, right?  Well, I’ve been that way a few times and there’s plenty of dark corners to hide things.  Things like a small book, for instance.”

Melinda blinked.  “You think he has a ledger with Hydra members in it?” she asked, clearly having followed Trip’s thoughts to a conclusion.

Skye nodded.  “We do,” she agreed.  “It’s probably going to be in code, but Trip and I are good at that.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Jasper said.

Phil yawned, because he knew where this was going.  He needed coffee before he joined in anyone’s discussions.  “Does any of this need to be solved _before_ breakfast?” he asked, derailing the conversation before it could get much further.

Jasper glanced at him, amusement clear in his dark eyes.  “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be always thinking about food?”

Phil shrugged.  “I’m a fan of anything not salted or cooked over a campfire right now,” he replied.  “Particularly breakfast.”

Laughing softly, Clint nudged Phil’s should with his.  Natasha watched them both with warm amusement, while Nick just sighed.  “Unless you have any objections, Your Majesty, I call a small break on behalf of Phil’s stomach,” he said.

Maria laughed.  “Agreed.”

~*~

Phil spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding Maria’s teasing smiles and watching Clint across the room.  Nick and Maria seemed determined to separate him from Clint.  Phil found that a little hypocritical, because they were holding hands under the table.  Nick might have had a small point about Phil's distraction.  Clint’s fingers agile when he plotted out routes on a map, and Phil might have stared a bit.  Not that Phil was any more distracted that Nick and the Queen were.  Because Phil was a good friend, he hadn’t said anything.  Yet.

Surprisingly, Natasha ignored it for the most part.  Phil had expected her to tease him mercilessly, but she seemed content to keep her comments to herself.

“She’s happy for us,” Clint told him later when he wandered over for a piece of parchment.  “Natasha cares about you a lot, too, you know.  You’re one of her closest friends.”

Phil swallowed thickly.  “Tell her thank you,” he said, smiling when Natasha looked curiously at them.  “She’s one of my closest friends too.”

Clint leaned in closer, pressing up against Phil’s side.  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

Phil sent him a reassuring smile.  “I just want to spend more time with you,” he replied.

Clint ducked his head and looked coyly up at Phil through his lashes, which was completely unfair.  “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” Phil agreed firmly.

“Phil, stop making moony faces at Hawkeye, and hand me that report to your left,” Nick called out.

Phil raised his head and glared.  “Stop holding hands with the Queen and get it yourself,” he snapped back.

Natasha laughed at all of them.

~*~

Later that evening, Phil sighed in relief as he escaped the Palace and gratefully sought refuge in the bath house.  The day had been almost endless with round after round of meetings.  So far, the Council and the Heralds had managed to root out most of the Hydra agents still left within Valdemar’s borders.  No one knew how far beyond them Hydra extended.  There was also the Winter Soldier to deal with, now that Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson had found him.  With haunted eyes, Natasha had revealed the Soldier had once been James Barnes, Rogers’ childhood friend.  Phil really hoped that the healer Wilson could help Barnes’ fractured mind.

Naturally, Nick was also already planning the Royal Delegation to Asgard.  He seemed determined to fill it with as many of the best fighters from among the Heralds as he could.  Phil had been torn between amusement and pride when his and Clint’s names had been two of the first Nick had mentioned.  Between them, and Natasha, Nick and Maria herself, Phil doubted anything would happen.  Add in Prince Tony and Captain Rogers, and they’d probably be unstoppable.

Of course, being consistently pulled into meetings hadn’t just been exhausting.  Phil hadn’t seen Clint for more than a few stolen moments in _days_.  If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have gone searching for the archer right then.  Instead, Phil resolved to find Clint for breakfast.  For now, he’d have to settle for a bath to soak away the tension in his muscles.

Thankfully, a low fire was still burning in the hearth, the light flickering over the copper tubs set around the room.  It was obvious that Phil was not the only one who had desired a bath this late at night, but whoever it was had already come and gone.  Phil didn’t mind.  Company while he warmed his aching bones would have been nice, but wasn’t something Phil needed.  Even if a traitorous part of his mind did long for Clint’s steady presence.

Biting back back a yawn, Phil lit a few lamps.  As he started the familiar routine of heating the water for his bath, Phil caught a flash of metal on one of the stone benches.  The small knife was scratched and worn, but it was clearly something someone treasured.  Phil wondered if it belonged to whoever used the bath house just before him.

When he was finally done with the water, Phil stripped off his clothes quickly.  He sank into the hot bath with a deep sigh of happiness.  Having the bath house and luxury of a tub full of hot water was one of the best things about being back in Haven.  The cold streams and small basins of a long journey were just never the same.  Closing his eyes, Phil let his head rest against the back of the tub, the heat sinking into his bones.

Phil soaked in the bath until his skin wrinkled and the water went cool.  By the time he forced himself to climb out, the tension from days of intense meetings had mostly faded away.  Exhaustion pulled at him, but Phil still hoped he’d be up early in the morning.  He wanted to steal a little time with Clint before Maria or Nick called on him again.

He’d just pulled on clean underwear and was lacing up his trews when footsteps entered the bath house behind him.  Glancing up, Phil found Clint frozen just inside the room, his eyes wide and his hair damp.  “Is something wrong?” Phil asked, immediately tensing.

Clint opened and shut his mouth for a moment, before silently shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Phil asked softly, because something definitely seemed to be wrong.

“I, um,” Clint said, his voice rough.  “I forgot my knife.”

“Oh.”  Phil smiled.  “I found it.  It should be sitting on top of my shirt.”

Clint nodded, but still seemed frozen where he was standing.  Phil followed his wide gaze, and winced when he realized Clint’s eyes were fixed on the still pink scar on his stomach.  “It’s okay, Clint,” he whispered.  “I’m okay.”

Clint swallowed, his eyes wide and dark when he raised them to Phil’s.  “Would you… Can I?” he asked, stretching out his hand in Phil’s direction, before pulling it back.

“Of course,” Phil agreed.  He couldn’t imagine denying Clint anything when it seemed so important to him.

Clint crossed the room slowly, his eyes drifting back down to stare at Phil’s scar.  He glanced back up at Phil’s face, before he stretched out hesitant fingers.  The caress was feather-light, barely a ghost of a touch, but Phil shivered anyway.  Achingly carefully, Clint traced over the edges of the scar as he mapped out the new imperfection on Phil’s skin.  “Does it hurt?” he asked softly, looking up again.

“Not anymore,” Phil replied.

Clint smiled.  “Good.”  He blinked, as if suddenly noticing how close he and Phil were standing.

Phil reached out to stop Clint from stepping back, keeping his grip light.  “I was going to try to find you,” he admitted quietly, “but then you and Natasha disappeared together, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Yeah.”  Clint nodded.  “She and I had a lot of things to talk about.”

“I can imagine,” Phil said.  “There was a lot to take in today.”

The corner of Clint’s mouth quirked up into a smile.  “It wasn’t just that,” he replied.  “She and I talked about you, too.”

Phil blinked.  “Oh?”

To his amazement, Clint blushed.  “Yeah.  There hasn’t… I mean, I haven’t…”  He blew out a sigh.  “I slept better last night than I have in a week,” he admitted softly.  “You make me feel safe.”  Clint’s eyes were so impossibly blue in the dim light of the bath house.  His mouth curved up into an undeniable smirk.  “Natasha said we should sleep together all the time.”

Phil coughed, the air suddenly freezing in his lungs.

Clint laughed, but the pink on his cheeks darkened too.  “I just…”  Clint ducked his head.  “I’d like that.  Waking up with you this morning, despite the reasons, was… good.  It was really good.  I want to do that all the time.”

Phil pulled Clint in, helpless to resist the kind, stubborn man in front of him.  “I’d like that too,” he agreed.  “Very much.”

Glancing up, Clint smiled.  “Yeah?”

Leaning forward, Phil pressed his lips gently to Clint’s.  Hesitant at first, Clint kissed back.  His hands were tentative on Phil’s arms, like he was worried Phil would disappear like smoke.  In Phil’s chest, joy and love swirled until Phil thought he would explode with everything he was feeling.  Because he _did_ love Clint, so very, very much, and it wasn’t just because of the Lifebond.  Phil had been slowly falling for Clint ever since they’d first met.  Clint melted against him sweetly, like he did every time they kissed, and Phil’s heart pounded.  Eventually, they broke apart, panting.  Phil reached up to brush his fingers against Clint’s cheek.  Clint eyes glittered brightly, even in the dim light of the bath house, and Phil’s chest clenched at the tears.  “Clint, what is it?” he asked, bracing himself for bad news.

Clint smiled, just a faint curl of lips.  Cuddling closer, he shut his eyes and buried his face in Phil’s shoulder.  Phil just hugged him tighter.  A million different thoughts raced through Phil's mind, but before he could give voice to them, Clint spoke.  “Phil?” he said quietly.  “Do you…”  Sighing, Clint pulled back enough to look Phil in the face and squared his jaw.  “Do you think you could ever love me back?”

The hesitance in Clint’s words broke Phil’s heart.  He cursed himself for keeping his feelings from Clint.  For being so uncertain, when Clint deserved to hear what he had been hiding.  “Yes,” he blurted helplessly, his hands fisting in Clint’s white shirt.  “I already do, Clint.”

Clint blinked up at him.  “You do?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Phil replied firmly.  He leaned in to brush a soft kiss against Clint’s lips.  Then, just as tenderly, he leaned forward and kissed each of Clint’s eyelids.  “So much that now that I have you, I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go,” he whispered.

“Please don’t,” Clint whispered back.

“I won’t,” Phil reassured him, his chest clenching.

“Well,” Clint added after a moment.  “Maybe you can let me go long enough to take me back to your room?”

Phil smiled.  “I can do that.”

~*~

Together, Phil and Clint slipped back through the quiet evening to Phil’s room.  Phil tugged Clint’s hand as he moved inside, overriding Clint’s hesitance with a look.  Thankfully, someone had already built a small fire in the fireplace.  Phil resisted the urge to light candles, because the fire was enough to give the room a warm glow.

“You’re exhausted,” he told Clint softly.  “Please, let me just hold you while you sleep?”

Smiling shyly, Clint followed Phil towards the bed, fingers still tangled with Phil’s.  Together they slipped off their boots and tunics, before Clint stilled.  His eyes flicked to the bed and back to Phil.  “What if I don’t just want to sleep?” Clint asked.  His cheeks flushed a dark pink, but his eyes were sure as they met Phil’s squarely.  “What if I want you to take me to bed?”

Closing his eyes, Phil sucked in a breath at Clint’s bluntness.  “I’ve wanted to take you to bed since just after I met you,” he admitted before he could think better of it.  Opening his eyes, Phil felt his own cheeks heat.  The wonderment in Clint’s eyes made the embarrassment worth it.  Phil smiled.  He reached out to cup Clint’s neck and jaw, needing to reassure himself this was happening.  “I would very much like to take you to bed, Clint,” he said.

Clint’s eyes darkened as he pressed closer.  “Yes.   _Please._ ”

Phil could only watch as Clint stripped off his shirt with graceful movements.  Clint bent slightly as he laid first the shirt, then his knife, on Phil’s small writing desk.  Muscles rippled across Clint’s back as he stretched, and Phil’s breath caught in his throat.  Swallowing, he traced the silvery scars that twisted along Clint’s side and shoulder blade.  Clint had been through so much in his life, and it showed.  There was not an ounce of fat left on his frame, and the years of fighting for his life showed in the solid, ropey muscle.  When Clint turned back to face him, he caught Phil staring.  Phil flushed as Clint chuckled.

“Like what you see?” Clint teased.

Phil cocked his eyebrow and smiled.  “Very much,” he replied.

It was Clint’s turn to blush at Phil’s words, and he ducked his head, seeming at a loss of what to do next.  Phil shrugged off his own shirt, still not quite believing this was all real.  Having Clint in his arms, and soon in his _bed_ , seemed too good to be true.  “Come here,” he told Clint softly.

Phil swallowed a moan at the press of Clint’s naked chest against his, delighting in the firm strength under his hands.  Slowly, something began to unfurl in his mind.  Touch had always increased the sensitivity of Phil’s Gift.  Most people were so careful about touching him, and Phil usually preferred that.  Yet, with Clint, he couldn’t stop himself arching into Clint’s calloused hands.  Phil guided them towards the bed, and with a tug, Clint toppled Phil into the blankets.  Half sprawled across Phil’s chest, Clint burrowed his face into Phil’s shoulder.  Phil smiled, his hands coming up to card through Clint’s hair until Clint was almost purring like a cat.  “Clint, there’s something I should tell you,” Phil said quietly.  “Skin contact makes it harder for me to control my Gift…”  Somehow it was both easier and harder to say the words without being able to see Clint’s eyes.  “I may… Sometimes…”

Clint lifted his head.  “I don’t mind,” he interrupted Phil’s stumbling words.

Phil blinked.  “You don’t?”

_ :No, I don’t:  _ The words were a little shy, but Clint meant them.  Phil bit his lip to stop his grin from taking over his face.   _:I trust you:_

“Although, if we are confessing things…  There is something you should know about me too,” Clint continued aloud.  His cheeks flushed again.  “I’ve never, um, done this before.”

“Slept with a man?” Phil asked quietly, because Phil could understand it.  Not everywhere was accepting as Valdemar.

“No, um.” Clint shrugged, his smile both bashful and hopeful.  “I’ve never gone to bed with anyone.”

Phil’s eyes widened.  Clint wasn’t that young, and he was beautiful enough to turn heads, particularly with a bow in his hands.  Phil couldn’t believe Clint had never had any offers to share his bed.

Clint glanced away.  “In my life, I’ve learned more about the cruelty of people than their goodness.  I know others find pleasure with each other and then go their separate ways, but I…” Swallowing, he looked back at Phil.  “I wanted it to mean something.  I want to wake up the morning after and know you’re going to stay.”

“Of _course_ I’m going to stay,” Phil began, but Clint halted the flow of words with a finger on his lips.

“I know, Phil,” he said.  Clint trailed his own hands over Phil’s skin, easing the tension from Phil’s body with patient strokes.  Phil shivered, relaxing into the soothing, warm touches.  Dipping his head, Clint pressed a kiss to Phil’s chest, right above his beating heart.  “Besides, I love you and I want this.”

Phil smiled and nodded.  “I love you, too.”

Leaning down, Clint kissed his lips.  Phil arched up into the touch, needing to feel the warm wave of sensation surround him.  Tentatively at first, Clint slowly deepened the kiss.  Phil was more than content to stay where he was and let Clint take the lead.  He shivered at every brush of skin and moaned as Clint’s clever, nimble fingers slid along his stomach.  Reaching up, Phil cupped Clint’s face with both hands, pulling him down further.  The kiss turned deep and hungry as Clint yielded, heat uncoiling in Phil’s stomach.  When he pulled back enough to see Clint, the flush had spread across Clint’s cheeks, and his lips were slightly swollen.

Carefully, Phil slid his hands down to grip Clint’s hips, and rolled them both so Phil was leaning over Clint.  Phil’s Gift sent tingles over his skin as his thoughts brushed Clint’s, warm and welcoming.  Phil’s Gift expanded, spreading out to fill the cold corners of his mind.   _:Yes:_ Clint hummed, his thoughts a chaotic mix of happiness and arousal.  The swarm of sensations echoing through Clint’s mind made Phil gasp.

Licking his lips, Phil’s breath caught as he looked down at Clint.  He was trapped by Clint’s dark eyes, which scorched a path over his skin.  Being the sole focus of Clint’s sharp gaze should have been intimidating.  Phil was well aware of the equally sharp mind that lay behind those amazing eyes.  Yet, all Phil felt was treasured and safe.  Stripping himself of his trews and underwear, Phil tried not to blush under Clint’s hungry gaze.  He helped Clint out of the rest of his clothes, unable to stop his hands wandering as he did.  Slowly, Phil mapped the scars on Clint’s skin with his mouth and fingers, until Clint was arching beneath him.

“Phil,” Clint growled, slitting open his eyes to glare up at Phil.  “I’m not going to faint.  I know how this works.”

Phil couldn’t stop his rough chuckle as he gazed down at Clint.  Clint’s thoughts were impatient and eager, and his skin was flushed and sweaty.  Phil swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart pounding.  Despite the urgency that gripped him, Phil wanted to show Clint how beautiful he was, sprawled naked in his bed.  “I should have asked earlier…” Phil told him softly.  “What do you want, Clint?”

Clint blushed, the dark pink spreading down his neck to his chest.  His eyes widened, looking more vulnerable and uncertain than Phil had ever seen him.  Swallowing, he met Phil’s eyes.  “I want… I want you inside me.  I know I have little…”

Phil halted the words by pressing a finger to Clint’s lips.  “Clint, nothing matters other than that you are willing and that you enjoy yourself,” he said.

Clint sagged a little in relief, but to Phil’s confusion, he blushed even more.  “I want you to enjoy yourself, too,” he whispered.

“Trust me,” Phil said roughly, leaning down to kiss Clint.  “I’m definitely enjoying myself.”

_ :Then, please, can I learn what it feels like for you to be inside me?: _ Clint asked, the thought filled with heat and longing.

Groaning, Phil reached for the small vial of oil he kept in the drawer beside his bed, although mostly for his own use.  He’d never expected Clint.  Shifting so that he could kneel between Clint’s legs, Phil ran a soothing hand up Clint’s thigh.  Sucking in a deep breath, Phil strived for control as he slicked his fingers with oil.  “If you don’t like this, just tell me.  I won’t mind,” he told Clint.  Clint nodded a little shakily in reply, his jaw clenched in determination.  “I mean it, Clint,” Phil said firmly, tilting Clint’s face up to his.

“I will,” Clint said, his eyes going soft, the truth echoing in his mind.

Gently, Phil brushed a slick finger over Clint’s hole, before slowly sliding inside.  Clint’s thoughts stuttered, and he gasped, spreading his knees wider.  Phil carefully eased a second finger in beside the first, Clint hot and tight around him.  Taking his time, lost himself to the thoughts and sensations echoing across Clint’s mind.  He wanted this to be as good for Clint as it was for him.

_ :More, Phil.  Please: _ Clint sent as he groaned, hands tightening where they gripped Phil’s back.

Pulling out his fingers, Phil leaned down to press another kiss to Clint’s lips.   _:Ready?:_ he asked, sending his own want and need through his thoughts as he slicked himself up with more oil.

Clint nodded, gasping as Phil pushed in for the first time.  Everything was slick heat and pressure, and Phil had to close his eyes to maintain his tenuous grip on his control.  A shiver went through Phil at the feeling of _connection_.  Of not just sinking into Clint’s body, but also the soft fall into Clint’s mind.  Clint’s hands gripped Phil’s arms as he gasped.  When Phil was buried as deep as he could go, he leaned down to press his forehead against Clint’s, almost overcome.  “Gods…” Clint hissed.   _:I didn’t know it would feel like this:_

Phil let out a shuddering breath as Clint tightened his legs around Phil’s waist.  “Clint…” Phil whispered, but Clint arched up to press a kiss to Phil’s lips.

_ :Please:  _ Clint said.   _:I need…:_

_ :I know:  _ Phil replied.   _:I’ve got you:_

Slowly at first, Phil began to move, rocking his hips forwards as the kiss turned less coordinated.  Clint clutched at Phil’s back and shoulders, his fingers digging into Phil’s skin.  Phil slid his hand down Clint’s thigh, urging him to shift his hips.  On the next thrust, Clint gasped.  Phil wanted to take his time with Clint, to watch the other man fall apart, but everything was too much.  Groaning softly, he couldn’t tear his eyes from Clint’s dark and intent gaze.  Clint was beautiful, his skin glistening and his mind open.  Phil’s rhythm faltered, pleasure sparking up his spine.  When Phil slid a hand between them, it only took a few strokes before Clint’s back arched off the bed with a long, low moan.  As Clint’s body clenched around him, Phil let out his own wordless cry.  He ground his hips deep as his orgasm flooded through him.  For one long, perfect moment, Phil was lost in a wave of love and pleasure, Clint tangled with him so tightly they were one.

Nerve endings tingling, Phil collapsed against Clint.  He tried to regain his breath, his thoughts still entwined with Clint's.  Eventually, Phil gathered enough control of his limbs to gently pull out and slump down to the bed.  Clint immediately curled towards him and Phil didn’t resist the urge to gather Clint into his arms.  Even laying close like this, Phil could sense the brush of Clint’s thoughts.  Warmth and contentment radiated from Clint, and Phil wanted to bask in their happy bubble forever.  “Mmm,” Clint hummed into the skin of Phil’s neck.  “Is it always like that?”

“No,” Phil replied just as softly, stroking his hand down Clint’s back.  “That’s not… I think that’s how it’s supposed to feel when you’re in love, though.”

Propping himself up, Clint looked down at Phil with bright eyes and a wide grin.  “Yeah?”

Phil stretched out a hand to cup Clint’s jaw and run his thumb along Clint’s cheekbone.  “Yeah.”

Still grinning, Clint leaned down to press his lips to Phil’s in a soft kiss.

After a while, Phil pulled himself away from Clint’s pliant warmth and went to find a soft cloth.  He felt a little shy wandering naked around his rooms, despite what he and Clint had just shared.  He couldn’t stop the faint blush when he caught Clint unabashedly watching him.  Cleaning them both as best as he could, Phil slipped back into bed.  Clint immediately burrowed back into his arms, Clint’s solid weight achingly familiar.  Even though sharing a bed was still so new, it didn’t take long for Phil to drift off towards sleep.

“Phil?” Clint whispered.  His warm breath brushed against Phil’s collarbone, tickling faintly.

Phil hummed inquisitively, half asleep.

“I love you,” Clint said.

Smiling, Phil blinked open his eyes enough to catch Clint’s soft smile.  “I love you too, Clint,” he replied.

~*~

 


	6. Epilogue

Phil adjusted the packs beside Peggy’s saddle, trying not to fuss.  From the sound of Peggy’s amusement, he wasn’t really succeeding.  Peggy was packed relatively lightly, even with the many sets of Phil’s fancy new tailored Whites.  Apparently, trusted members of a Royal Delegation to an Imperial Wedding couldn’t wear just anything.  Secretly, Phil didn’t mind so much.  While more elaborate than practical, the ceremonial Whites looked good.  It didn’t hurt that the first time Clint had seen Phil wearing them, he’d swallowed his tongue.  Phil had discovered he’d do a lot of things to put that look on Clint’s face.

“Ugh,” Clint muttered, appearing suddenly as if conjured.  He leaned into Phil’s side, a warm, steady weight.  “I don’t think I want to go anywhere involving Prince Anthony-Call-Me-Tony again.  That man is _impossible_.”

Phil bit back a smile, his arm coming up to pull Clint closer.  “What is our dear Prince trying to do now?” he asked dryly.

“He wants to bring some sort of really heavy armour.  And because Jarvis can’t carry it all, he’s trying to order everyone else to do it.”  Clint’s voice was muffled from where it was buried in Phil’s shoulder.  “He keeps talking about assassination attempts.”

Phil frowned.  If the Prince was worried, maybe they _should_ take that extra squad of guardsmen.  It was doubtful Tony would have heard anything Nick, and therefore Phil, hadn’t, but you could never be certain with the Prince.

_:Chosen, stop worrying:_ Peggy said.

_:But I’m so good at it:_ Phil told her dryly.

_:You really are:_ Clint agreed.

Over the last few weeks, Phil had been slowly letting Clint into his thoughts.  It was strange, particularly after so long with just Peggy as his constant company.  Not even being back in Haven surrounded by friends had been enough to break Phil of his many bad habits.  But Phil was learning, and Clint was incredibly forgiving and patient.

“Do you really think the Dark Elves or Hydra will try anything at the wedding?” Clint asked in a low voice.

Phil couldn’t help the need to pull Clint closer, his hand on Clint’s hip.  He smiled faintly when Clint hummed happily.  “I don’t know,” he replied.  “They may be desperate enough.  Nick has plans if they do, and between us and the Asgardian guard, I doubt they’ll succeed.”  He pressed a kiss to Clint’s temple.  “Besides, do you really think anyone can beat the combined skill of the great Hawkeye and Black Widow?  Or the best Heralds we have?”

Clint tilted his head up to grin at Phil.  “Not when we have you on our side,” Clint agreed.

_:Saps, the both of you:_ Peggy huffed.

Phil grinned.

 

End

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for severe injuries: towards the end of the fic, Phil is shot with an arrow that almost kills him. The scene is not overly graphic, but the wound is described, so if this is a problem for you, you may want to skip the end of Chapter 3.


End file.
